


The Legend of the Sun and Moon

by TruebornAlpha



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action/Adventure, Amnesia, Anal Sex, Ancient China, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Bad Puns, Blow Jobs, Bottom Shiro, Boys Being Idiots, Brainwashing, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Dark Shiro (Voltron), Demons, Dragons, Dreams and Nightmares, Drugged Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil Shiro, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, Filipino Mythology & Folklore, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gangbang, Goddesses, Gods, Hance from chapter 11 onwards, Heartbreak, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Intercrural Sex, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Kitsune, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Master/Slave, Monsters, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Slave Shiro, Slavery, Smut, Soldier Keith, Soulmates, Star-crossed, Supernatural Elements, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Trans Pidge | Katie Holt, warrior Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-08-14 21:22:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 165,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8029366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: Since ancient times, the Sun and Moon have been tasked with guarding the Heavens, but a bitter betrayal fractured their delicate balance and destroyed the peace between the two kingdoms forever. Centuries later, a new power has arisen, threatening the very sanctity of Heaven. Priest-Prince Shiro of the Moon Kingdom has trained his entire life to fight the supernatural creatures that stalk his people, but he was never prepared for war. Captured, humiliated, and chained, his only hope lies with Lieutenant Keith Kogane, the handsome but deadly enemy soldier of the Sun Kingdom. 
An epic sprawling adventure with monsters, dragons, and the fate of the world that balances on the hearts of two literal star-crossed lovers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
>   
>  Art by [Ohhicas](http://ohhicas.tumblr.com/post/151632692473)  
> 
> 
>    
> Please leave comments if you enjoyed it! More chapters to come. For more info on the setting and the cultures, check the end notes for more info on the setting or click here:  
> [The Moon Kingdom](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/post/150609624187/the-moon-kingdom-is-scattered-across-four-large)  
> [The Sun Kingdom](http://itdans.tumblr.com/post/150532587993)  
> [The Islands](http://itdans.tumblr.com/post/151171706683/thousands-of-islands-dot-the-south-dragon-sea-in-a)  
> [The Jade Monastery](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/post/151978477388/the-sun-kingdom-stretches-for-thousands-of-miles)  
> [The Lady's Scar](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/post/152603351483/the-ladys-scar-stretches-for-hundreds-of)  
> [The Temple of Heaven](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/post/153668308718/high-on-an-arid-plateau-in-the-very-western-tip-of)
> 
> For the round-up post of all the amazing artwork, commissions, and music for this fic, please click [**HERE**](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/post/154247939523/the-legend-of-the-sun-and-the-moon-complete)

“Tell us a story!”

The children clamored around Shiro even as the priests tried to shoo them away and off to bed. He laughed and waved his hand. “Let them stay. I haven’t told you a story for months, I think we have time for a quick one tonight.” The children cheered, settling in around him to listen.

It was the perfect night, the air perfumed with the scent of wisteria and evening primrose and the full moon bright overhead. It was a night of celebration when the White Lady showed her face to the world. The Temple of the Moon rose ancient behind them, lit with soft lanterns that swayed in the breeze and shining with gilt silver that still shone after thousands of years. It was said the White Lady built the temple herself, which was why it stood strong against the test of time.

Prince Takashi Shirogane, heir to the Moon Kingdom, had spent much of his childhood in this peaceful, secluded paradise far from the capital city and his mother’s court. The royal family was so much more than political leaders, they were the spiritual link between the people and their Lady goddess. It was their duty was to defend them against the darkness just as she had all those years ago. His mother was High Priestess, and Shiro her heir apparent. Shiro had been raised as both a warrior and a priest among the night blooming flowers and the gentle sounds of water cascading over smooth stone to take up the mantle of High Priest. The capital city was lovely, his mother’s palace draped in silks and riches from across the Kingdom, but in his heart, this was always home.

“Your highness, you’ve had a long trip. The children can wait until tomorrow after you’ve had a chance to rest.”

Though he’d traveled the kingdom to share his tales and read his scriptures, tonight his audience came from the Temple’s orphanage. For many of them, it was the only home they knew, though some still had family among the villages. Many of the children would go on to join the Temple’s ranks as attendants, apprentices, and if they were lucky, priests. Many sought the blessings of a priest in the family as much as they did the relief of losing a hungry mouth.  

Whatever their reasons, the Temple welcomed each and every child without question, and it was a known fact that the prince was always a dependable source for a second helping of dessert.

“One story won’t break what a thousand miles have failed.” Shiro argued easily, and the priest sent him a concerned scowl. Shiro was quite familiar with it. It had been the same one he’d seen for over a decade now.

“That depends on the story.”

“Then I’ll tell an old favorite,” Shiro excused, casually adjusting his silver overcoat that hung over his snow white robes. For a moment, the long string of black prayer beads that he wore around his wrist was visible, but out of longstanding habit, Shiro always kept the lone white pearl on the strand hidden. It kept its place on the inside of his wrist where it beat against his pulse, a solemn reminder of the White Lady in Her kingdom. On his right shoulder was a thickened patch of cloth adorned with prayers written in silver thread, a ceremonial perch for his White Lady, should She in Her preferred form of a great snowy owl seek rest.

He took a seat, where the rest of the group had gathered a veritable mountain of cushions and blankets, and the children closest to him immediately mimicked his stance. His attendants would forgive the mess. Normally Shiro lived as frugally at the Temple as he did while on the road, leaving them with little to clean. “The story of the White Lady and the Golden Empress.”

The priest didn’t throw his hands into the air, but Shiro suspected he wanted to. He was already too late. A servant had come in with a tray of tea and sweet bread. They were in for a long night. 

“Once upon a time, there was no light in the darkness. The Golden Empress ruled over her kingdom, bright and proud, but selfishly hoarding all human’s worship for herself. She built her palace on the highest peak and demanded that all life submit to her rule. In the day, she spread her warm light across the world, but at night, she shuttered the doors of her palace and the world was plunged into darkness.” Shiro began the familiar tale that every child in the kingdom knew by heart.

The children giggled and jostled each other, one small girl spilling her tea all over her friend, who let out a shrill wail as they started shoving. Shiro was quick to distract, picking up the soggy little boy and settling him on his lap. He held out his fingertips, a shimmering ball of silvery light dancing his hand. The little boy sniffed, eyes wide in surprise as he reached for the miniature moon.

“The White Lady saw the suffering in the darkness where monsters and shadows preyed on the mortals. She took pity on us when we called out for help and plied the Sun Goddess with sweet wines and flattery until she fell asleep in her arms. While she slept, she stole some of her light and escaped back into the sky, giving us light and hope in the darkness, and a way to fight the monsters of darkness.”

He tossed the sphere of light above the children’s heads as it burst into a thousand sparkles before disappearing. The kids cheered, trying to catch the glittering pieces. “That’s why you still fight the monsters!” One little girl called out, swinging her pillow around like a weapon and Shiro laughed.

“You’re right. Everyone in the royal family serves to fight the things who live in the darkness just like the White Lady. We’re here to keep you safe!”

The kids cheered again, a few smacking each other with their cushions and pretending they were brave princes and warrior princesses, doing battle with the supernatural creatures that lived in the shadows.

“Alright, alright. Say thank you for the story, but it’s time for all of you to go to sleep.” One of the elder keepers said gently as the children groaned, but he had decades of experience herding unruly children to bedtime. Shiro knew personally that it would be no use arguing.

He waved goodbye at the children as one of the priests touched the edge of his sleeve. “Your highness, a word?”

“What is it, Koan? Is everything okay?” Shiro asked, his brows furrowed with concern as he sent a quick glance towards the closest window. The moon had already moved beyond its highest point in the sky. It was too late to begin most rituals of worship; they would be chased by the sun before the enchantments could settle. Even Shiro would have called it late, and the Temple of the Moon was not known for its easy sleeping habits. 

To his surprise the old priest laughed, an easy smile across his face. “Fear not, my Prince. Matters of the temple can wait until morning. No, this is merely a matter of an old man’s heart, and perhaps the hope that nightmares are not as powerful as they seem.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Shiro said, but he’d already relaxed. He started undoing the long sashes of cloth from around his waist, draping them ceremoniously in a woven cabinet before he undid his silvery toga. It would be good to sleep in a bed again. Meanwhile, Koan helped himself to tea, draining the pot for both of them. When Shiro had slipped into a casual robe of soft cotton, they made their way without speaking to the north-facing alcove. Its high windows gave them a sprawling view of the mountainside, moonlight making the snowy peaks shimmer with an ethereal glow. It was a position they’d kept since Shiro was a little boy and drank more honey than water in his tea.

“Is it true what they say, in the east?” Koan looked more sad than nervous, weighed down with tired resignation. Shiro wished he could give him better news.

“I’m afraid so. The Kingdom of the Sun is getting more daring with their attacks.” 

The legend of the White Lady and the Golden Empress may have been just that, but there were kernels of truth that kept it from fading into history. Shiro was taught that when the Gods split the sky, the Sun and Moon were tasked with protecting the Heavens. Yet the Golden Empress turned greedy, and their kingdoms had warred ever since. Their battles grew so fierce that the Gods turned away in disgust and left their battleground to rot, and the White Lady, and the Golden Empress would spend eternity paying in blood.

Shiro knew that storytellers, priests, and scholars alike all had a hand in embellishing the legend to fit their needs, but the overall tale remained the same. The Kingdom of the Sun and the Kingdom of the Moon had been in battle for as long as anyone could remember. Even their moments of peace were tenuous at best, and now it seemed like a return to war was coming.

This time, it might not have been entirely their enemies’ fault.

There had been a begrudging sense of respect for their rivals, the Sun Kingdom warriors were unlike any in the entire world. While the Moon Kingdom kept itself hidden, cities scattered among the mountainous islands, wrapped in mist and magic, the Sun Kingdom turned their magic to war. Their soldiers were the fiercest in the entire world, sworn to valor and to duty. Their kingdom spread across the world and their power only grew. Or so his mother had told him. Those days of Sun Kingdom glory had ended long before he’d been born.

The Galra had taken the Sun Kingdom two generations ago. Skilled horsemen and nomads, they’d descended from the North like a swarm of locusts. They didn’t fight as honorable warriors, raiding the northern Sun territories for centuries and slowly building their own homeland cobbled together from stolen lands. They brought their own magic and poisons into the capital city under the banner of diplomacy and infected the Emperor’s court like a cancer. By the time the attack came, sweeping in under cover of night, it was too late and the Galra had slaughtered every last member of the Sun Kingdom’s royal family. In one night, the world was thrown out of balance and chaos reigned.

No one knew why they’d turned from the endless grasslands of their home country, or their sudden interest in the Sun Kingdom, but there was no one brave enough to ask. The Galra ruled the Sun Kingdom now, lead by their self-proclaimed Emperor Zarkon. They saw him as a God. an immortal creature who had lived ten thousand years and founded their people from the blood and dust of the steppe. In the Moon Kingdom, they whispered that Zarkon had instead made a deal with a demon for his power or worse, was a demon himself, living in corrupted flesh to appear mortal and hungry for blood, and the tales only grew more and more outlandish as they spread. 

It didn’t matter what Zarkon was, his poison was real enough. The Sun Kingdom didn’t care about honor anymore, they cared only about conquest. The armies of noble warriors were turned into invaders, adding land to Zarkon’s growing collection. He had even grown bold enough to start raiding along the Moon Kingdom’s coast, pillaging towns and capturing slaves.

Koan sipped his tea and looked out over the mountains, steam curling up from between his hands. “I know you want to join the army and fight. I can see it in your face, my Prince.”

Shiro sighed. Royals of the blood were spiritual leaders only, letting the Council of Elders and the army handle all political and military matters for the country. While his mother wielded great influence and wisdom, she and hers had no sway in the Kingdom’s decision for war. “I know my duty, but a warrior is a warrior. I can fight a Sun soldier just as well as any demon, you know that. I should be protecting my people, not letting the Galra ravage our coastline while I sit here doing nothing. How long until they try a full scale invasion?”

“A warrior is not only a warrior when he holds the heart of the kingdom in his hand.” The priest returned gently. “You are too important to lose. Even more than you know, your highness.”

Shiro frowned, an argument already half formed on his tongue, but Koan looked towards the horizon and sipped his tea with almost pointed determination. Shiro could do nothing but follow suit. In the distance, the sky was lightening, not by much, but enough to know that the moon’s reign would be coming to an end. The prince sighed with his entire body, rolling his eyes towards the Heavens before sulkily shoving a sweet bun into his mouth. His mentor laughed and ruffled his hair, a breech of protocol that they both pretended not to notice.

“Rest well tonight. You’ve earned it.”

“You just don’t want me to pester you.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

It felt good to laugh. Normally Shiro was drained enough following a pilgrimage away from the Temple, but seeing the destruction left by the Sun Kingdom’s attacks had left him even more shaken than usual. They finished the rest of their meal in companionable silence before retiring for the night. He didn’t know it yet, but it would be the last time Shiro ever saw his mentor. 

A prince of the blood was afforded the best room in the temple, a new luxury now that he was too old for the children’s hall, but even the priests’ best was simple, their finery reserved only for ritual in the shrine. There were simple cotton sheets over a soft mat on the floor, none of the silks or embroidery of his mother’s palace. The room was almost bare, a low brazier burned to keep out the lingering spring chill and the paper thin walls catching the shadows from the garden trees.

Shiro lay down with a sigh, happy to wrap himself in the last few quiet hours before the day began. It didn’t last long.

That night, he lost any hope of peace. 

He woke with the low tolling of a warning bell booming out over the Temple. Light flickered against the walls, but it wasn’t the bright light of morning. Fires raged out in the garden and all Shiro could hear was the sound of people screaming.

He leapt to his feet, still in his simple sleep garments, and grabbed for his weapons. A steel sickle attached to a long chain that ended in a heavy orb, its blade curved in the Lady’s crescent image. He had used it to bring down dozens of monsters, but he never thought he would have to use it here. The Temple was the holiest site in all of the Moon Kingdom, even the demons wouldn’t dare to attack them here. He flung open the door and froze in horror. Instead of demons, the morning sunlight glinted off the burnished golden armor of hundreds of mortal soldiers.

_No!_

Shiro was allowed only one moment of hesitation, and even that felt like too much. He threw himself into the fray with a vicious snarl, drawing on all he’d been taught to protect him and sharpened it with years spent in practice. He had never drawn human blood before, but that day he felt like he was drowning in it. He fought side by side with the able-bodied fighters, giving the too young and too old under the Temple’s protection a chance to escape, but they were vastly outnumbered. The invaders chipped away at their ranks, claiming them one by one. They battled across the courtyards and through the halls, trampling the carefully placed offerings to worship their beloved Lady goddess, staining her temple with blood and death. Still Shiro wouldn’t stop fighting, his eyes wild with feverish light, his sickle in one hand, countless spells balanced in his other. For every priest they cut down, he would take ten soldiers.

It just wasn’t enough. 

They surrounded him, the last of the Temple’s defenders, swords raised high. The soldiers of the Sun were cruel in victory like no one believed they could be. The last thing Shiro saw was the splash of light over blood stained armor, like molten gold.

A new dawn was rising. The moon had fled.

He should have died then and in the months afterwards, he wished he had. The survivors were chained in iron and dragged aboard massive Sun Kingdom warships to transport back to the mainland. The Galra had never struck so deeply within the Moon Kingdom before and they’d destroyed the very heart of his people. His mother would be forced to act now, but he knew she would prefer concealment over war. She and the Council of Elders were always on agreement in that matter. If the Galra were brutal enough to attack the Temple of the Moon itself, he doubted even her magic would stop them.

The ship was a misery, the survivors crowded into the holds with other victims plucked from the coastlines for weeks until they returned to the mainland. There were few survivors from the Moon Temple and none exposed his identity to the Galra, his survival depended on their silence. If they realized they had a prince of the blood in their possession, he wasn’t sure what these monsters were capable of, but he watched what their negligence caused. Day after day, sickness and exhaustion claimed their numbers, and when Shiro was the last survivor capable of a funeral prayer, he wept bitterly.

As bad as the ships were, the port of Quanzhou was worse. He had heard about the Sun Kingdom’s port cities, but he’d never seen anything so grand before. The city sprawled in every direction, the peaked roofs of temples and administrative buildings rising above the ramshackle homes. It dwarfed even his mother’s largest city, he couldn’t imagine what the Sun Kingdom’s capital would look like.

They didn’t have much of a chance to enjoy the sights before they were herded like cattle to the slave pens, stripped and scrubbed and displayed on the auction block for sale.

Rebellion was quelled swiftly and brutally. Shiro gained his first of many scars in that way. He quickly learned to save his energy, he was trapped among enemies that would happily beat him to death. In order to survive, he would have to pick his fights carefully.

The prince lost track of how many days he spent there, hungry, dispirited and humiliated, dreaming of his homeland and freedom. In the daylight, he flinched away from cruel hands and expectant stares. For the first time in his life, he was taught to fear the night. Shoved in his cage with a dozen others, he was helpless to stop the cries that echoed through their pens, the desperate pleas for mercy, and the broken sobs that followed when mercy was denied. If merchandise was damaged the next day, resourceful merchants simply lowered their prices. And the cycle continued.

The slavers moved him twice. Only afterwards would Shiro realize that it was because his block were sold in bulk. He was passed over more times. He wasn’t delicate enough for pleasure work. He was too old for the seedy thieves’ guild. He was sure he would be forced into hard labor, but Shiro didn’t know how unlucky he truly was, until one day, he was dragged from his cell along with other men and woman of sturdy build and forced to kneel before an official in imperial armor. Gold plates gleamed as bright as the sun they represented, a sight Shiro had already learned to hate.

The Garrison wanted him, and his life would be forfeit to the arena.

 

* * *

 

 

_Eight full moons later…_

The newest addition to the Garrison had a small, slight frame, and a messy shock of brown hair. On his first night at the Garrison, not unlike others in his position, he cried. He seemed as if he would fly away on a strong breeze, still struggling to carry the burden of the manacles slaves always wore around their ankles, wrists, and throat. Shiro had marked him that first night, the young man’s vulnerability quickly identifying him as a target. It didn’t take long until he attracted attention. There was nothing Shiro could do to free him, but he could spare him some suffering among the other fighters of the Garrison.

The young man looked like he wouldn’t make it past his first battle, but when Shiro sat by his side in the mess hall or walked him through the sparring sequences in the training yard, Matt was left alone by fighters and guards alike.

“Eat,” he said softly as the found a free space in the mess hall and sat balancing bowls of watery rice mush on their knees. It was a large tent that covered rows of battered tables, and always smelled vaguely like rancid meat. Shiro wouldn’t share his rations, as much as he wanted to, but he wouldn’t let Matt ignore his own. “You have to keep your strength up.”

It was the second rule at the Garrison. The first was survive, through any means necessary. They lived at the pleasure of Emperor Zarkon in their own walled enclosure in the middle of the army’s training grounds. They were all from scattered homelands, men taken from conquered countries and brought together for one purpose: to fight. They were entertainment for the rich and idle, and a brutal reminder for the poor, but most of all, they were a threat to the Empire’s enemies. A reminder of the fate that waited for them after defeat.

He nudged the young man, trying to encourage him to eat. “It’s not that bad, just give it a try.”

“T-thanks.” The other captive said, barely whispering the word. In all the time they’d been together, he’d rarely spoken. He swirled his wooden spoon through the thin rice gruel and choked down a mouthful. Shiro watched him carefully to make sure he kept eating. He had to the look of one of the Sun Kingdom’s own people. “I’m Matt.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Matt. You are… you’re one of the Sun people, aren’t you?”

Matt nodded sharply, keeping his head bowed. “From the southern forests. I’ve never been this far north before.”

There was a faint tremor in his voice and Shiro leaned into the other man’s space, offering any comfort he could. Prisoners of war were bad enough, but the Zarkon had had even started enslaving his own people. This was more brutal than anything his people had heard. He bowed his head and silently prayed for the White Lady to protect his mother and their lands from these barbarians. 

Their meal was cut short.

“It’s this one.” A slave attendant announced. He guided one of the soldiers into the mess hall, stopping in front of Matt who cowered back away from him. Even if Shiro didn’t know who he was, he would have known he was Galra. He was dressed in the fur-lined armor of the nomads instead of the burnished gold of the Sun soldiers, flaunting his heritage over those who served him. Yet despite foregoing their armor, he wore the prominent cloak clasp provided to the officers in the Sun Kingdom’s armies. The golden trinket, adorned with black pearl and hand-carved by the empire’s most prominent artisans and priests, was meant as a celebration of his heroism and rank, and was said to possess wards that were both protective and invigorating. Shiro bet he stole it.

Around his throat were small trinkets that Shiro had taken too long to recognize as the finger bones of the Galra soldier’s conquests. His long black hair was pulled into a tight braid, sleeked back with oils. It added a severity to his harsh features.

Sendak, Commander of the Emperor’s troops and one of the cruelest men in camp. He was massive, a wall of thick muscle and scars, one eye missing and covered with a silk bandage. Shiro had avoided his attention over the months, but Matt was not so lucky. Sendak reached for him, yanking the young man up to his feet. 

“ _This_  is one of the fighting monks from the Jade forests? I thought they were supposed to be warriors of great renown, this one looks like I could break him in half with my bare hands.” He sneered, giving Matt a shake. “I doubt he would last five minutes in the arena, he’s a waste of gold. Get him ready for the fight.”

“Leave him alone.” Shiro spoke before he realized it and earned a derisive laugh.

“You’d dare speak to me? Know your place, worm.”

“I said leave him alone.” Shiro stood, and he faced the commander without flinching.

It happened too quickly for Shiro to think through his actions, and even if it hadn’t, he doubted he would change anything. The commander drew his sword, the sound of metal sliding too loud in the suddenly silent mess hall, but Shiro was already moving. He swung at the inside of the commander’s elbow where it was most vulnerable, and lunged forward, bashing him across the face. As the commander stepped back, regaining his balance, Shiro stole his sword out of its scabbard and pointed it at his face. 

The reaction was instantaneous. Heat raced up his arms and legs and burned across his throat, and Shiro screamed as he fell to his knees as his shackles flared with magic. The Galra soldiers surrounded him, beating him into the carpeted floor. Shiro tried to fend them off, but his limbs felt weak, sluggish with foreign curses. He was nauseous long before he was kicked in the head. 

It always ended this way. Shiro had just never challenged anyone with such a prominent rank before. Other gladiators were more forgiving, and other gladiators couldn’t touch him so easily.

“Halt.” Commander Sendak’s voice rang clear. Shiro would only know learn later that one of his men had raised his sword to deal a finishing blow.

Shiro’s vision swam briefly and blood spilled over his eyes, but he still noticed that during the scuffle, Matt had rushed to the far end of the tent with the other gladiators. Small victories, Shiro reminded himself as he was dragged to his feet. He hung limply between two guards, forced to kneel by their commander’s feet. 

Sendak touched his face slowly, sneering when his fingers came away red. _Small victories._ Shiro repeated to himself, this time with more force. He’d stolen the pride of first blood from the commander. Sendak kicked him hard enough to bruise his ribs, and despite every effort not to, Shiro gasped in pain. He would have curled up on himself if he was free.

Sendak sneered venom in his native tongue. The Galra had a harsh but melodious language, like every sharp syllable was designed to be sung. Shiro didn’t understand it, but he’d picked up a few words, and the way the soldiers laughed told him their commander must not have been very nice to him. He shifted back to the lilting tones of the Sun Kingdom’s speech with a ferocious grin.

“You’ve caught my attention, mutt. You’re not going to like having it.” 

Shiro looked up defiantly, refusing to cower under the gaze of his ‘master.’ “You have no honor.” He snarled, accent clear as Sendak’s smile widened.

“You’re one of those Moon brats, aren’t you? I heard you’re all thieves and mystics, I’m surprised they had any warriors at all for our entertainment.” He leaned forward, studying Shiro with the intensity of a dog fighter picking out a prized animal. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you.”

He turned with a sweep of his cape and a chilling command. “Make sure he’s ready for the ring. I want to see him perform before we determine his punishment.” Sendak left with a flourish as the remaining Galra aimed another sharp kick at Shiro’s head, sending him spiraling into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains drugged sex, non-consexual sex acts/rape, exhibitionism, voyeurism, and public sex.
> 
> Please leave comments if you enjoy it!

There was a time when the Garrison and what it represented struck fear into the hearts of the enemies of the Kingdom of Sun. The Garrison existed to protect the Kingdom and all those within its borders for thousands of years. The heart of the kingdom’s armed forces, it stood as the most precious offering to the Golden Empress that her worshipers could provide.

For the people of the Sun Kingdom, battle was the highest form of devotion, and only through striving for excellence in the field, could they truly venerate their valiant Empress. The Garrison bore the nation’s pride. It became a symbol of justice for its allies and defeat for its enemies. Generations of warriors trained through the Garrison. They turned away no soul who was willing to bear arms, prove their worth, and surpass their limitations.

When the Galra took over, they tainted it.

They turned the Great Arena into a glorified execution chamber. They forced political prisoners into battle against terrible beasts for the sake of entertainment. The greatest generals and leaders of the Sun Kingdom’s fine armies were humbled and massacred in front of the people they swore to protect. It didn’t matter that they walked into the arena already bleeding and broken. The Galra took pleasure in making their last few living moments as humiliating as possible.

As the years passed and the Galra’s hold on the kingdom tightened, the Garrison provided new entertainment through war-ready slaves. They pitted their endless supply of human flesh against the most horrendous monsters they could find. They taught their audience to love death and demand blood. They claimed that the most skilled warriors would be granted their freedom and taken into the army ranks as a reward if they managed to survive long enough. The rite had once been one of the highest honors imaginable in the kingdom; now it was just bait to dangle hope in front of the eyes of suicidal prisoners.

Shiro had been there a total of six times. Every slave alive had a clean record of wins.

He stood in the center of the armory, letting a squire wash the blood from his face as he was fitted for his armor of beaten leather. If the Galra tampered with a warrior, they always made sure the evidence was hidden beneath their victim’s armor. Shiro wasn’t sure why they bothered. What warriors were given was laughable. His shield would no sooner stop the breeze than it would a sword.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Matt said, kneeling by his side. He mimicked the squire to avoid suspicion. He shouldn’t have been here, but the boy was more wily than Shiro expected. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. It should’ve been me.”

“Are you ready for battle?” Shiro asked softly. He watched the Southener pale, his mouth opening and closing around words he couldn’t find, and offered him a gentle smile. It hid his bitterness well. “It’s okay. I’m good at this. No losses yet.”

Matt looked unconvinced and Shiro couldn’t waste the energy to reassure him. He was still alive, that was testament enough that he hadn’t lost, but he knew that everyone out there in the stands wanted him dead. They craved the blood sport. They wanted someone to be torn apart by the end of the battle with the newest monster their lords had brought back. This one had come from the Far South, from the unconquerable islands that even the Sun Empire at its most powerful had failed to claim. Pitting it against warrior from their traditional enemy was a special treat.

“Don’t worry.” Shiro clasped his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I’m coming out of this thing in one piece.” The Southerner gulped, nodding quickly as he and the squire stepped back. Horns blared and Shiro hefted his short sword, giving his friend a salute before heading up to the Great Arena itself. 

He stepped foot into the sand and the crowd roared. The sound carried like a blow, rattling in his chest as Shiro squinted up at the sky. Around him, golden armor of the soldiers caught the sun in blinding streaks of light while the rest of the stands were packed with screaming commoners, everyone from peasants to wealthy merchants. Shiro sneered at them and drew on every inch of his noble pride as he stalked across the blood soaked sand. An overripe melon splatted into the dirt by his foot and the crowd jeered, raining down abuse from the stands.

His mother would have scolded him for hating his enemies, but in that moment, Shiro couldn’t bring himself to care. If he could have cut them all down in his bid for freedom, he would have.

An inhuman howl split the air and the crowd cheered again in anticipation as the gate at the other end of the arena slowly creaked open. A creature barreled through gates, twisting metal off its hinges and Shiro recoiled. He had fought monsters before, but nothing like the one-eyed hulk that charged straight towards him.

Shiro dove to the side, rolling in a spray of sand and tightening his grip on the short sword. There was barely any chance that this useless weapon would even be able to pierce the cyclops’s skin, let alone take him down. They really were trying to kill him this time. Wherever he was, Sendak must be laughing. Shiro clenched his fist and missed the calming sense of his beads around his wrists. They always helped him focus his spells, but he couldn’t use his magic in front of the Galra or risk exposing his true identity.

The beast rounded on him with astounding grace, and it bellowed through a mouthful of bulky teeth that it couldn’t hide even when it clamped its jaws. A pair of thick, smooth tusks spread from either side of its mouth, curling towards its eyes. It was faster than Shiro. He was willing to bet it was stronger too, but it was heavier than he was, and Shiro needed to cling to that advantage.

It charged at him once more, but the prince was ready. He charged, as well. At the very last moment, he stepped to the side, hoisting himself up on the cyclop’s massive arm, and swinging himself until he could hold on to the creature from behind. His enemy howled its disapproval, thrashing and running, beating at its own head to try and shake him off. Shiro’s head swam, ears ringing with the deafening roar of the arena and the throbbing pain at the back of his skull, but his aim was true. He sliced his sword across the cyclop’s eye just as it grabbed him off its shoulders and threw him across the ground.

Heart racing, Shiro managed a spell to cushion his fall by the skin of his teeth, and he rolled away from the flailing monster. Its face was a mask of agony, covered in its own gore.  _This is my chance!_  Shiro thought, gritting his teeth through the pain as he rushed forward to attack. 

Yet despite being blinded, despite its pain, the cyclop’s keen hearing helped it pluck the human off the ground like Shiro weighed nothing at all. Its meaty hands were rough like the hide of an ox. 

That was when he saw him, a magnificent figure in resplendent gold, sitting in the very first row of the stands. A soldier of the Sun Kingdom with jet black hair with handsome, almost wolflike features. They mattered less than the way he was holding his own hand, bending back his fingers as he mouthed words Shiro couldn’t make out.

Narrating the fight, Shiro realized. Making his own strategy.

The prince didn’t have time to think before his enemy shook him like a rag doll, nearly making him lose his stomach. The cyclops reached up to grab Shiro’s arm to tear him apart like one might a chicken bone, but Shiro redirected his sword and jammed it into the back of the monster’s thick fingers. It sliced through the sensitive skin just below its thick nails, and the cyclops yelped, loosening his hold.

Shiro only had a moment to react. He let himself fall out of its grip, just enough to swing himself back up on its shoulders with an acrobat’s control. He slammed his hands over its thick, bat-shaped ears and uttered a curse, one hopefully none of his audience would notice. Magic coursed through his veins, an old friend welcoming him home, before it curled into the monster’s skull.

And started buzzing.

The cyclops roared in agony, head filled with the buzzing drone of a thousand angry bees.

Shiro grimly hung on as the creature bucked and spun to escape the noise ricocheting in its skull. The illusion wouldn’t last long, but this might be his only chance before the cyclops shook off the magic and ate him. He was not going to die as some monster’s meal in an enemy land. He braced himself on one of the creature’s overlarge ears, risking it all as he swung forward and let himself swing down the cyclops’s lank hair.

The sword was more a blunt instrument than a blade and the creature’s skin too tough to pierce. He had to aim for its weak spot and pray to his Lady goddess that he struck true. He swung, but the cyclops plucked him out of the air before the blow could land and squeezed, fracturing ribs as Shiro screamed in pain. It snarled in his face, maw dripping with saliva and breath rank with rotting meat. It opened wide to bite Shiro in half and the Prince’s sword flashed with an edge of silver. He twisted in the creature’s grasp and thrust through the roof of its mouth with all his strength, piercing the soft palate and up into the base of its brain.

Shiro yelped as he was flung away, landing heavily in the sand before staggering painfully to his feet and watched the creature flail blindly. It howled again, bloody ooze spraying from its mouth before collapsing with a massive thud on the floor of the arena.

The crowd went wild, screaming and cheering his success as Shiro stood victorious, chest heaving and bloodied. They fed on the violence and he stared stonily at his captors before settling back on that one soldier that had caught his eye. The young man wasn’t cheering, the only silent one in the arena. He stared back with unsettling intensity and Shiro wondered anxiously if he had noticed the subtle magic he had used to win. No, the illusions were minor, no one could have seen. He dismissed the worry, raising his chin in haughty defiance.

Another horn blasted and Shiro was escorted off the sand as attendants rushed to peel the slime crusted armor from his body and clean his wounds. He only softened when he saw Matt creeping closer, something almost like fear flitting across his face. Shiro attempted to smile and ease the young man’s worry with humor. “I told you I was good at this.”

It seemed to be the wrong thing to say, or maybe that was the reason Matt looked at him with both awe and terror, yet Shiro couldn’t find it in himself to regret what he’d done, even as the weight of Matt’s stare settled over his shoulders. He moved to turn back towards the attendants, seeking a poultice for his hip where he’d landed badlyon it and bandages for his ribs. It felt like he’d landed badly on _everything_. Before he could move, a gentle hand tugged on his elbow, and he was surprised to find Matt’s tentative smile. “The Children of the Lady are not what I expected.”

Shiro snorted despite himself and he let Matt help him peel off his shirt. “Funny, you  _glints_  are as brutal as I did.”

Matt didn’t protest the mocking name of their golden military or the wry bitterness in Shiro’s tone. He was scowling intently at Shiro’s chest, where a mess of purples and blues spread like spilled ink in sickening blotches. Shiro would feel worse in a few hours, and terrible in the morning, but if he could find some privacy, he’d risk a healing charm. It was a risk he didn’t dare on most days, being caught would do so much worse for his health than a few bumps and bruises along his rib cage would.

“It didn’t use to be like this,” Matt whispered as he patted a damp rag against Shiro’s skin, wiping away sand and grime. His hands were gentle even if the cloth was not. “The old ones still remember the way we used to be.”

Shiro had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The Moon Kingdom had plenty stories about their neighbors across the sea and so far, they’d all been true. They were barbarians more interested in killing each other than building anything that mattered. Maybe their kingdom was bigger and their cities more elaborate, but none of that was important when you were nothing but cruel, vicious thugs.

“Things changed when the Galra came. We were warriors, but we were defenders of what was right and just. Combat was an art, a prayer. We would train ourselves to give thanks to our Goddess and to protect Her people.” Matt sighed, holding a small bowl of water to Shiro’s lips to help him drink. “Our enemies were treated with respect, we didn’t do  _this_.”

“I wouldn’t call war honorable, and no offense, you don’t look like much of a warrior.” Shiro couldn’t help but growl but was startled when Matt just laughed.

“I guess I’m not, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. I guess I just wasn’t cut out for it.” Matt said with a sad smile. “I would’ve been dead if they sent me out there, you saved my life.”

Shiro fidgeted, torn between wanting to comfort Matt and maintaining his own righteous hatred. Just because the glints treated their own people with kindness didn’t mean that the people they invaded felt the same. The Golden Empress they served had always been greedy and ruthless. Though the Galra didn’t shine as brightly, Shiro didn’t see much difference between them.

But in the end, he decided there was nothing to gain in hurting a suffering man. “Here, drink,” he said, refilling his bowl for the other slave, anything to ease that distant, unhappy look on his face. “This doesn’t have to be the end. There’s supposed to be a chance to join the army after this, right? And I saw some - soldier of rank, he wasn’t Galra. That’s what you people want, right?”

Of all the ways Shiro expected Matt to react, his excitement was not one of them. He nearly knocked over his drinking bowl. “You mean Lieutenant Keith?”

“I don’t know.”

“How don’t you know him? Lieutenant Keith of the 27th brigade.” Shiro shrugged and pointedly didn’t ask how Matt had possibly heard of him when Shiro hadn’t. “He’s one of the highest ranking locals in the army. Some people say he was a slave just like us. Some say he was a farmer’s son, or a former minister’s. No one really knows.” Matt seemed to catch himself then, taking a long sip of his drink. “But he’s proof that, yeah. You’re right. This doesn’t have to be forever, we still have our honor.”

Shiro clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, giving Matt his moment of pride. This wasn’t the time for doubts. They had enough odds stacked against them without them working against themselves. And maybe there was a chance that he could teach Matt a thing or two about surviving in the ring if it ever came down to that. 

His victory was short-lived. The heavy doors of the arena pushed open to reveal the imposing form of Commander Sendak, and Shiro felt a snarl twisting his lips without his permission.

“An impressive show for a mutt.” The soldier drawled, approaching them with a predator’s gait. “Did you hear them cheering for you? Their very own champion in the making.”

Matt slunk back in terror as Shiro drew himself up to stare icily at the Galra, his best royal disapproval was spoiled by the fact Sendak towered over him. Everything ached and his unbound wounds slowly seeped blood, promising messy scars across his skin, but he refused to flinch.

Sendak just chuckled at Shiro’s arrogant silence, hooking one long finger into the loop of his iron collar and yanking hard enough to send Shiro off balance. “I’ve seen a lot of warriors, but the ones they’ve sent me recently have been pathetic. There’s something interesting in you that deserves to be cultivated.”

“Fuck you.” Shiro spat in Sendak’s face. He was backhanded hard enough to rattle his brain and send him reeling backwards into the dirt for his insolence. The Galra wiped his face and stalked over to Shiro, kicking him hard in his sore ribs for good measure.

“Don’t get cocky. You’ll have to break before you’re any use to the Empire.” He gestured for the attendants. “Get him pretty for me, the little  _Champion_  is going to be celebrating with the troops tonight.” Sendak turned his back on Shiro like he was worthless, sweeping out of the fighters pens as nervous attendants knelt to help the Shiro to his feet. 

If he had known what Sendak’s threat had meant, he would have fought harder to escape.

 

* * *

 

Shiro’s hands and ankles were chained, the heavy links pulled through the iron loops on his shackles and hooked through his collar. He clinked with every step, flanked by an escort of armed guards. Proving himself in the arena had made the soldiers wary and Shiro wasn’t sure he enjoyed the extra attention.

The rest of his body was in sharp contrast to the crude, heavy chains. He’d been cleaned and his wounds bound before being dressed in silk. His hands were too rough for the delicate fabric now and he felt exposed with nothing but the thin white cloth against his skin. If he had been in his Mother’s court, he would have been wrapped in so many layers of embroidered silk that he was sometimes too stiff to even sit. This was little more than a single robe, thin and unadorned that whispered against his bare skin as they walked. They were doing this to mock him, dressing him up like a courtesan with daubs of gold in the corner of his eyes and on the curve of his lips. Shiro closed his eyes and tried to ignore the humiliation, embarrassment and anger burned in his chest.

This was his first time out of the cobbled-together tent compound just outside the arena that housed the fighter slaves. He was lead through the slave pens, past the stands and preparatory rooms to a section he’d never been to before. 

The _real_ Garrison. 

The group walked through what must have been the training courtyard. There was mastery carved into every fixture, in every pillar, every wall. The Moon Kingdom often dismissed their most hated enemies as gaudy and clumsy, but Shiro couldn’t help but appreciate the care that came into designing the grounds. Its equipment was left to rot, damaged and desecrated, but each had been designed as shrines to their Goddess, functional in every way to honor Her path. They were chipped and torn where golden ornaments had been placed to honor Her before being ripped out and plundered, but the yard still held some of the same serene balance of a temple. 

The guards pushed him through without so much as a second’s pause. They finally stopped at a large room that had been striped of all its former furnishings and turned into a spacious dining hall. Servants flitted in between long rows of tables, and Shiro shuddered to see he wore even less than they did. Their masters sat cross-legged on plush pillows. They weren’t all high-ranking soldiers, but those that were, were all Galra. 

He spent too long staring. A sharp tug on his chains nearly sent him to his knees. Crude jeers and hounding whistles followed him as he was taken to the head of the table. Commander Sendak was already watching him. Shiro bristled, defensive and frustrated at being caught off-guard, but when his hands balled into fists, the Galra smiled with too many teeth.

“Entertainment?” The soldier at Sendak’s right hand asked, and laughter answered him. 

“Almost pretty. For a mutt.” Sendak didn’t join in the jeering, busy running his fingers down Shiro’s thigh, calloused skin slipping along its inside, and Shiro jerked away with a hiss. Someone kicked the back of his calf and knocked him off balance. He fell to his knees by Sendak’s side. The laughter took a crueler turn.

Strong hands grabbed him by his jaw, forcing his head up to meet Sendak’s bright, bright eye. He slipped his thumb between Shiro’s lips, pushing them apart to inspect his teeth. “In for a treat tonight, men. We’re dining with the Great Arena’s newest champion.”

“I will kill you,” Shiro jerked back sharply, issuing his threat through clenched teeth. Shame was a visceral thing, so thick he could taste it. There were too many of them. He wouldn’t win in a fight, but the idea of letting them do what they planned left him ill.

“Relax pet.” Sendak crooned with kindness that only served to taunt. “We won’t hurt you. In fact, by the end of the night, you’ll be begging for more.” Before Shiro could retaliate, Sendak turned his attention to more important matters, gesturing for one of the slaves to approach. “A dish for our  _guest_.”

Shiro risked a glance at the table and regretted it. He’d eaten nothing but swill for months, and the promise of sweet meats and steamed vegetables left his mouth watering. He closed his eyes, and took in a steadying breath, silently beseeching his Lady for strength. When he opened them, there was a bowl of cream on the ground, and Sendak’s mouth curved in a leer.

“Drink.”

Shiro’s hands curved over the porcelain bowl and for a brief moment, he considered flinging it in Sendak’s face, but that sort of rebellion would be worthless. After the arena, he was barely in any shape to fight and there was no way he could take on so many at once. He could grit his teeth and survive the humiliation until they got tired of mocking him and returned him to the slave pens. In the mean time, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to eat, who knew when he’d get another?

He took a small sip of the drink and made a face, the milky tea harsh with salt. Sendak laughed at his discomfort and Shiro took a long swallow, draining the bowl and setting it defiantly on the ground beside the commander.

“Good boy.” Shiro was rewarded with a bowl of rice and some spiced meat that he fell on like a starving animal, scooping the food with his fingers as Sendak gestured for the entertainment to start. Musicians struck up a clear note, strings and pipes blending together as lithe young men and women danced for the pleasure of their masters.

He watched with half-lidded eyes, lulled by a full belly and slowly relaxing as the Galra ignored him. How many nights had he sat in his mother’s palace long past the time a young boy should have been asleep, listening to the court musicians play? The dancers had been more restrained, the entire performance a ritual to worship their Lady goddess. He couldn’t help but think that these dancers seemed to be enjoying it more, leaping and writhing like acrobats.

It was mesmerizing and Shiro licked his lips as a young woman’s robe slipped low down her shoulders while she spun. He felt flushed, too hot in only his thin silk and dizzy just watching her. Fingers slid into his hair and Shiro jumped, trying to retreat but the world lurched beneath him in rolling waves. His head lolled, too sluggish to react as Sendak slipped the thin silk robe down his shoulder to mirror the dancing girl.

“W-what have you done?” Shiro slurred, trying to focus on Sendak’s blurry face. All he could see was sharp teeth, a dark gaze and the ever-present shine of gold.

“Just gave you something to help you enjoy the night. You did earn it, after all.” Sendak purred.

“ _Bastard.”_ Shiro wanted to lash out, but Sendak would not be denied, more overwhelming with his kindness than he had been in his cruelty, and Shiro slumped against his tormentor with a breathy moan. 

“How sweet.”

There was mockery in Sendak’s voice, but at that moment, Shiro couldn’t care. He was blinking through the haze of want that settled over him. It slipped over his skin, spilling into his mouth and filling his nose as the commander’s hands wandered underneath his clothes. His hands were rough and proprietary, tracing down Shiro’s chest, sharp nails leaving scores as he scratched down to his belly and up again. Shiro’s heart hammered in his chest, too loud, and too fast, like he’d just run a marathon, but he could hardly move his limbs. “Wait. S-stop-”

Sendak ignored his objection, and instead dragged him into his lap. Shiro’s head fell back, like it was too heavy for him to balance, exposing his throat as he turned into Sendak’s shoulder. The commander’s chest rumbled when he laughed. “Where’s that wicked tongue now?”

Shiro hissed in protest. He could feel the threads of his self-control slipping through his fingers. It had started slowly, but now everything seemed to be running away from him. Every second he lost more of himself, giving into the other man’s possessive touch, and it terrified him. But when Sendak fed him his fingers, he sucked them down greedily.

“That’s it,” Sendak chuckled, tracing his fingers along the length of Shiro’s tongue, spreading his mouth wide around them, until trickles of spit escaped down his chin. “Show me how a good boy begs.”

His other hand moved between Shiro’s legs, settling him until he spread them wide in an intentionally obscene display for the table to see, and Shiro burned with horror, but his cock was hard in his master’s fist.

The first stroke had his entire body arching under Sendak’s touch, needy and hungry for more. The silk robe poured across his skin like liquid as Sendak pushed it higher, forcing Shiro’s knees wider to give the other soldiers a better view. Shiro would have choked with shame if he had the ability to do anything more than react to his master’s touch, wordlessly pleading for more.

“Show them what they’re missing.” Sendak murmured against his ear, breath hot. He lifted Shiro’s hands by the chain between them and stretched them up over his own head so the captive’s body bowed back against him. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

He rolled his fingers along Shiro’s nipples, drawing them taut and pink with pleasure. They were wet from Shiro’s mouth and smooth around his skin, sending sparks of tension through his nerves that had the prince quivering for relief. 

Shiro wished he could deny it, snarl out some kind of defense, but his tongue felt too thick for his mouth and Sendak’s wandering hands made him shiver. He kept expecting the Galra’s touch to be cruel and painful, somehow this almost tenderness was worse. He was too lost in his drugged state to notice the jar of sweet oils the slaves set next to his master or the crude suggestions the other soldiers called out to their commander.  It wasn’t until he felt Sendak’s slick finger pressing against him that he finally cried out.

“Fight if you want, go on.” The commander chuckled, sliding the finger into him slowly until Shiro groaned. “There we go. You like being a good boy for me.” A second finger forced its way inside, fucking down into him and working him open as Shiro panted for breath. The room spun around him, everything too bright and moving too fast. The Galra were a blur as they cheered him on like they had in the arena…except for one. The quiet, dark haired soldier he had seen during the fight was watching him still and Shiro squirmed under his gaze.

 _Help me_. Shiro pleaded, but the words wouldn’t come out. His entire world jolted when he was slammed into the low table, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t fight. He lay there, vulnerable and exposed, silk draped across his back while his teeth still rattled in his skull with the force of impact. His vision swam, as demanding, steady hands parted his knees until they trembled. He was dripping between his thighs, left open and gaping and rattled by an odd sense of loss that still lingered on his tongue. Big hands settled on his hips, then spread his ass, taking in his unconditional submission.  _Please make it stop._

The soldier wouldn’t look away, focused dark eyes taking him apart with methodical sense, and Shiro longed for relief, in any way it came. His mouth felt dry, tongue slow and clumsy. It worked as sluggishly as the rest of him, forming around confused words.

“Keith?” He slurred around the name Matt had given him as if the soldier could help him, but when Sendak pushed in, he screamed. Shiro was fucked all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion, body aching under the assault. It felt like he’d been torn open, his back burning with sensation. He didn’t know it could hurt so deep, that he could feel so much, and the table laughed when he squealed like a stuck pig. He tried to escape, nails dragging across the smooth wood to pull himself to freedom, but Sendak was relentless, punishing, and brutal. Shiro couldn’t stop begging for him.

A powerful grip closed around his jaw, jerking him up and putting the long length of his body on display. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes, smearing gold down his cheek. 

“What did you say bitch?” The Galra hissed, voice rough in his ear. He licked a wet stripe across Shiro’s cheek, forced open his mouth and kissed him. He’d never been kissed like that before, dominated and beaten, and when he surrendered, Shiro knew his audience would see.

His hands went to his belly and cradled his cock, trying to stave off the heat that threatened to break him apart. He swore he could feel Sendak through his skin, moving inside him, so thick and hot and merciless, Shiro couldn’t breathe.

The handsome soldier had him spellbound, trapped in dark hungry eyes as Sendak fucked him in front of his top generals. Maybe it was the strangeness of seeing a glint among the Galra or maybe it was the slight flush to the young man’s face, lips parted just slightly as the only sign that the entertainment had affected him, but Shiro couldn’t look away. He murmured Keith’s name again as if the soldier could save him, an unlikely ally against the Galra’s attention, but there was no stopping the commander.

Shiro was mounted like an animal, Sendak’s hand hooked into his metal collar for extra leverage. The chains rattled with every thrust as Shiro squeezed around his own cock, dragging his thumb down the sensitive skin. Sendak laughed in his ear, pleased by Shiro’s eagerness. The Commander split him apart with each agonizing thrust and Shiro cried out for mercy.

The commander let him fall. His hands scrambled to catch himself, chains thumping heavily against the table. He arched his back, unintentionally put himself on display for the table in a hopeless bid for balance, letting out little breathy animal sounds, too fucked out to even scream. Behind him, Sendak grabbed his ass, spreading his cheeks until the pressure left his hole burning where it stretched around his shaft, mouthing greedily along his thick length as he disappeared into Shiro’s body.

“Please,” the prince whimpered, voice a strangled, broken thing as he panted for air, mouth wide and obscene, just begging to be filled. “Can’t… I can’t…”

Sendak fucked his orgasm out of him, pounding into his aching, swollen cunt, until Shiro came in thick white ribbons all over his thighs, moaning and keening for everyone to hear. He slumped, boneless against the table, sniffling pitifully as consciousness threatened to slip through his fingers. A sharp slap woke him, leaving his ass flushed and pink until Sendak hit him again and again, and Shiro cried out. 

“Tighter you sloppy whore,” he spat, and the collar around Shiro’s throat grew hot. It squeezed, and squeezed, until Shiro wailed, panic cutting through the haze, and he bucked and writhed around his master. Sendak came just like that, with Shiro begging for release and tears clinging to his lashes. 

Wet spread between thighs, and once Sendak let him go, Shiro curled in on himself. His ears were ringing around cruel jeers, and sickening requests to share. Even with the drug dimming his senses, Shiro didn’t know how he’d survive another round. He tried to crawl away, limbs protesting every step, before Sendak drew him back in with a hand around his raw neck.

The commander took him in, his beaten, defeated form, and traced the line of his mouth. Shiro knelt before him, his head tilted towards the skies, eyes closed as if in worship, “Good boy.”

 The prince couldn’t help but shiver with the praise. When Sendak pushed him back down, and guided his mouth to his spent cock, putting Shiro’s filthy back on full display, Shiro only opened wide and licked him clean.

After that night, Shiro would be more careful. He would fight with his sense not his sword. He did everything in his power to avoid Commander Sendak, and kept those who depended on him close by, out of the Galra’s line of sight. He went into the ring two more times without the commander’s intervention, fighting monsters that were less exotic than the cyclops from the Far South. Shiro almost believed Sendak had forgotten him. 

Peace couldn’t last. 

There was one person that Commander Sendak despised even more than the delinquent would-be champion, and that was Lieutenant Keith of the 27th brigade. The time would come when he would make them both pay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains gangbang, non-consexual sex acts/rape, exhibitionism, voyeurism, and public sex.
> 
> Please leave comments if you enjoy it!

In his narrow private room in the barracks, the furniture cleared to give him space, Keith battered the thick pole with his practice sword. The wood was already notched and splintered where he’d struck the same patterns all morning. A distinct pattern in red paint was slowly beaten away with every hit that made contacted. The muscles in his arm ached and his chest burned, but he ignored the fatigue and kept moving. Block, parry, spin, cut, thrust. He knew the patterns by heart, but he had to push himself every day. The only way to get ahead was to be the best, and Keith would settle for nothing less than perfection.

He moved like dancing light, body elegantly bending through the traditional forms of the Empress’s Path.  _Rising Sun, Casting Shadows, Gentle Light,_ and on, and on, he passed through each with ease, eyes half-lidded as his focus settled on the tilt of his sword. Each movement was a prayer, made with his entire body.

There used to be a time when the warriors of the Sun could really call down their Golden Empress’s power as they fought. The method was guided through the exercises that She had taught their ancestors, but the purge had killed anyone with Her gift in their blood and anyone who knew the secrets to unlocking it. Keith was only aware of about half of the forms, and he was one of the most educated in an army that once boasted the deadliest scholars. The only ones left with magic were the Galra druids locked away in the heart of the capital, surrounded by rumors of human experimentation and dark curses. There were no more priests, but the movements were still sacred and he poured his heart into them.

He had to believe. Faith was the only thing that kept him going. Faith in Her, in himself, and in the right to be a warrior. Back in the days before the Galra, a soldier’s bloodline or family didn’t matter. The poor were equal to the rich on the battlefield and skill was cherished. Now, the Galra held all the positions of power and influence while the rest of the Sun Kingdom fought for scraps.

They never used to parade their enemies around in chains or humiliate them. The Galra brought the practice with them when they conquered, introduced the system of oppression and twisted what they wanted of the Empress’s dogma to fit their needs. 

Keith’s thoughts drifted to the dark-haired Moon Kingdom slave, his eyes blown black and his shiny slick lips parted to-  _Damn!_  Keith stumbled, missing his strike and cursed himself for being distracted. 

Keith exhaled deeply, shaking himself all over, and started again. His arms outstretched, sword an extension of himself, and he focused inward, letting his pulse guide him like a metronome would a musician.  _Rising Sun…_ For a moment, his world was clear. Then his foot shifted too much to the left, knocked him off balance, and when Keith swung, he came dangerously close to smacking his own arm. The soldier snarled.

A flush of heat rushed up the back of his neck that had nothing to do with the exhaustion that nipped at his heels. He couldn’t stop thinking about him.  _Shiro_ , an unfortunate name if there ever was one, a poor sap probably named after the Moon Kingdom’s royal family in the misguided hopes of stealing blessings. Keith thought that the  _gwailos_ were all ghostly specters, as ashen and sickly as the moon they worshiped. Shiro wasn’t, and it was frustrating as Hell.

Keith had seen every one of his fights, like he had seen every Garrison fight he could afford to when off-duty. There was something sickening about the Great Arena. It felt like he was standing in a corpse. There were too many reminders of what the Kingdom of Sun had once been, left now to a strangling decay, but Keith couldn’t stop. It was his responsibility, and a task no one else seemed to care for.

Soldiers of rank had the capacity to promote slaves into the army. It was the last righteous duty left in the Garrison, a chance to better oneself in the most fundamental of the Empress’s ways. It was the last chance for  _mercy._

Keith had recruited slaves for the freedom of being a soldier in the past, but the higher he rose through the rankings, the less often his bids were entertained. Whatever his shortcomings, Keith was no fool. He knew his meteoric rise had displeased his superiors. That they could find no fault with him displeased them even more.

He just couldn’t get the memory of that man out of his head.

He was angry at himself, slavery was distasteful and public humiliation worse. It shouldn’t have affected him the way it had, but the prisoner had stared at Keith and set him on fire. He was ashamed that he had stayed to watch, but at the time, he’d been too shocked to move. The commander had probably invited him to his little celebration just to watch Keith squirm uncomfortably.

With a sigh, he let the sword drop to his side and stretched, cracking tired joints before setting the training equipment aside. He usually felt more centered after working out, but today, nothing settled the knot in his stomach.

“Keith! Hey, Keith!”

“Hm?” The young man turned and caught a towel in the face. Keith scowled at Chen before scrubbing the sweat from his face. The other soldier stammered out an apology and Keith let it slide. Chen was always too enthusiastic to the point of irritating, a young foot soldier who was Keith’s self-appointed squire. The man had some talent, but not enough to challenge the Galra for a place. It never seemed to dampen Chen’s spirit or his good nature. Keith could never understand him.

“Sorry, I just thought you’d like to know the Commander is looking for you.” He said, gesturing back towards the center of camp.

It took all of Keith’s willpower not to roll his eyes. “Alright, I’m on my way.” Sendak never liked to be kept waiting and Keith didn’t want to give him any reason to disapprove. He hated Keith enough as it was.

The commander’s office was almost obscenely opulent, like Sendak thought surrounding himself with all that glittered would make him look less like a monkey’s scrotum. Keith bowed when he entered, but it was a sharp, perfunctory gesture that held no more respect than absolutely needed. He ignored the staff that lingered in the room like a pack of hungry hyena, focusing instead on the man behind the heavy wooden desk with a viper’s smile. Keith could feel the corner’s of his mouth turning down.

“I was summoned?”

“Lieutenant,” Sendak drawled, turning the title into something lewd. Keith held his breath, lest his mouth run away without his consent. “I hope I didn’t disturb your beauty sleep, but we’ve reviewed your request for deployment. Your third in as many moons. Your latest assignment’s come in. I think you’ll be pleased with the results.” 

Keith knew he was being lead on, knew Sendak was baiting him, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from standing just a little straighter, from wanting. It made the commander’s smile curl as he handed out a tightly bound roll of parchment. Keith tore apart the Emperor’s seal without sparing it a glance, skimming through the page.

And immediately looked like he’d been punched in the chest.

“While there’s no room on the front lines, it will be the 27th brigade’s great honor to serve in the mess hall. We wouldn’t want to endanger our prettiest troops, now would we?”

Keith slammed his hands on the desk, sending paper in every direction. “That’s crap and you know it!” He growled, leaning across the desk into Sendak’s face. “I’m one of the best soldiers you’ve got and you’re sending my entire brigade to work the mess hall? We’re better than this! We should have been sent to the front months ago.”

The commander smiled, enjoying how easy it was to needle the soldier. Keith was undoubtedly one of the best fighters, but he lacked any kind of social grace or tact. The soldier was easy to manipulate, always lashing out in rage or frustration. There was nothing about him that was subtle at all. The local servicemen may have worshiped him, but Sendak enjoyed keeping the young man on a short leash to remind Keith of his place. “Are you disobeying my direct order, Lieutenant?” Sendak smirked. “If you think this is beneath you, I’m sure I can find someone to replace you.”

“No, sir.” Keith ground his teeth together so hard his jaw hurt. This was so unfair! The Galra weren’t shy about sending his countrymen out to die in some wilderness at the edge of their Empire, but putting actual troops under his command during battle was too much for their egos. He was better than they were, he deserved this! For one moment, he contemplated quitting and just walking out of the tent, but he couldn’t let Sendak win.

“Good, then I’ll expect you and your brigade to report tomorrow morning to your new position. I’m sure you’ll do great washing dishes.”

Keith turned to storm away. He got halfway before he tensed. His commander had a way of bringing out his most impulsive streak. “Since our new assignment is  _so difficult_ , you won’t deny us the help we need. I want the gwailo. Consider this a formal request.”

It didn’t matter that the slave was from the Moon Kingdom. It didn’t matter that Keith suspected he was one of their soldiers. If he was a spy, the Empress’s would guide them, but Keith would be damned if he let a fighter like that go to waste. “You can find some other rat to cater your parties. Or are you so hellbent on squandering skill?”

He should have been more wary of the way Sendak went still.

“The slave isn’t your concern.” Sendak warned, but Keith had been pushed passed his already limited patience.

“He’s a good fighter, you saw him in the ring! He should have already been offered a place as a soldier, but you’re too busy torturing him or fucking him to see that. It’s a waste! We should be-”

“Enough!” Sendak snarled loudly enough to send Keith back a step, the soldier snapping his mouth shut. “If you’re so fond of the slave, then maybe I will let you have him. I guess he even gets to a pretty thing like you. And here we all thought you were a eunuch.”

“I-I’m what?!” Keith sputtered in outrage, but Sendak was already out from behind his desk and towering angrily over him. 

“Report to the training yard.  _Now_.”

Keith may have left the commander’s office with his head held high, but a feeling of dread had started to settle over his bones. It felt like he’d made a mistake, though what would come of it, he didn’t know. Ever since Keith had made a name for himself as a senior officer, Sendak had taken to ruining his career at any given turn, going out of his way to make Keith’s life with the Emperor’s forces a living Hell. He worked him to the bone, pushed him twice as hard as any other soldier, gave him the most menial, insulting tasks he could think of, all to chip away at his resolve and send him packing. Then there were times his intervention was less ‘official.’ Keith bore the scars of his triumphs, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Unfortunately, neither was Sendak.

Whatever Sendak was planning, word had already spread through the camp on the breeze. There were more soldiers waiting in the training yard, barely attempting to disguise their loitering. Chen was already there to offer him an eager smile. Keith ignored him because for once, Sendak didn’t keep him waiting

When the commander arrived, a hush fell over the crowd and there was no disguising what they’d become. They were hungry for blood. He wasn’t alone. Behind him, guards dragged the gwailo on a chain, walking him like a disobedient dog, even as the slave took larger strides to keep with Sendak’s pace. Keith’s stomach twisted into knots.

“What’s this about, commander?” He tagged on the title like an afterthought. Even showing that much courtesy grated on his nerves. Sendak ignored Keith, and that grated even worse. Instead, he turned to the slave,  _Shiro,_ Keith couldn’t help but remember. The lieutenant knew the exact moment Shiro noticed Keith, because he wouldn’t look away.

“You’re in luck today, mutt.” Sendak said, and though he faced Shiro, his voice was pitched to carry. “You have a chance to serve in the Emperor’s golden army, if you can prove your worth in a match of  _skill.”_

Shiro stood straighter. There was a caged look in his eyes, not unlike a cornered animal. A squire came up to each of them, holding a wooden practice sword. Keith’s feeling of dread worsened.

“If you can best our fair lieutenant, the place is yours.”

The slave stiffened in outrage, face twisted in disgust. “I will  _never_  join the sun.” Shiro snarled and Sendak jerked the chain around his neck to send him down to his knees.

“Then you’ll die.” Sendak said simply. “I’ll cut your throat right here. Is that what you want?” He pulled a long curved knife from his belt and pressed it against Shiro’s pulse, parting the skin just enough that a few bright red drops stained his neck. The slave closed his eyes, frozen still as the men of the Emperor Zarkon’s forces watched for his answer. Finally he muttered one single word.

“No.”

The Commander pulled on Shiro’s chain hard enough to choke him. “No, what?”

“No, Master.” It took every bit of willpower to force the words past his lips, Keith could see the young moon warrior fighting with himself to obey. He felt a moment’s sympathy for the captive, but he wanted to hiss a warning about stupidity and pride. Sendak wouldn’t hesitate to kill a slave that stepped out of turn. The blade was sheathed and Sendak gestured for the soldiers to remove the chain linked between Shiro’s restraints to allow him to fight.

The slave was pulled to his feet and the wooden sword thrust in his hand as Keith watched him warily. There was no way to win, Sendak had done this on purpose, damn him! If Keith lost, he’d be destroyed, proved to be nothing more than an Arena slave. 

But if he won, he lost Shiro.

It would have been smarter to just play along and keep working to hone his skill. The Commander couldn’t keep him from real battle forever, but he was too damn impatient, and now he was trapped. He wished he could have done something to help the slave, but he wasn’t going to lose.

Keith took his stance, ready and waiting for the attack to force Shiro into the offensive. Even prepared, he barely had time to react as his opponent lunged forward.

Shiro was trained, that much was obvious. He fought as naturally as he breathed, but there was strategy behind his instinct that Keith couldn’t quite follow. He wasn’t as fast, and that proved to be Keith’s saving grace as he danced back out of range of the wooden sword, swiping low at Shiro’s knees and driving him back. The style wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen. There had been plenty of captives from the Moon Kingdom in the last few years and though few of them had been warriors, none of them fought like this. It was almost like Shiro was holding back.

Keith wasn’t.

He was explosive and relentless, an inferno given life. Keith focused on strength and precision, striking in a flurry and never giving ground. He saw a break in the slave’s guard, and Keith shifted between one heart beat and the next, from defense to offense. He knocked his sword against Shiro’s shoulder, pushing him down. He didn’t expect Shiro to use his momentum against him, dragging him to the ground with him. The slave rolled Keith over him, with a foot on Keith’s belly, and Keith tumbled through the dirt, rolling at the last minute to reorient himself. He came up on his feet. They rose at the same time, their eyes locked, chests heaving with effort.

Around them, the soldiers cheered, Galra and Horde alike. There was a clarity in the cheers, an instinctive, unspoiled call, instinctively crying out for the Empress in a place that had once stood as Her shrine. The Galra may have hated them both, but they all recognized a worthy battle.

Keth tasted sweat on his lips, his fingers prickling with nerves around the handle of his sword. Shiro was good, but Keith wanted to end this now.

He charged, intent on driving what he was sure would be the last few moments of the match, except he couldn’t hit Shiro. The slave was impossible to pin down, blocking each attack without wasting his energy. Like the moonlight over the ocean, he slipped through Keith’s fingers, not blocking his sword but moving with it, following its rhythm with preternatural grace. It was a strategy built on reflecting and deflecting, turning his opponent’s strength against him. Keith was just learning Shiro’s tricks and he was sick of it.

“Stand still and fight me!”

Keith advanced left, but to his surprise, Shiro moved forward, missing the sword by a fraction of an inch to wrestle Keith to the ground. Keith turned to buck his opponent off, but a handful of sand in his eyes blinded him.

His sword was twisted from his grip, the slave using his own weapon against him. Keith found himself bent over, face in the dirt, and pinned beneath Shiro’s weight. The dull edge of the wooden sword pressed against his neck. Around them, the Galra erupted into jeers and taunts while the Horde soldiers looked away. .

“No wonder the Galra defeated you.” Shiro hissed in Keith’s ear so no one else could hear.

“Let him up.” Sendak snapped as two Galra soldiers grabbed Shiro and roughly yanked him back. Keith panted, sick with shame. He had worked so hard for years, pushing himself to his limits to be the best and gather scraps of respect, but in one terrible moment, it was all gone. The Galra saw him as weak and his own people saw that their best couldn’t even beat an enemy slave.

He stood slowly, rage building through him and stared angrily at Shiro as if Keith could blame everything on him. This was all because he’d tried to _help_ Shiro, he felt  _sorry_  for the slave and he’d lost everything! Keith’s lip curled as Sendak clasped him on the shoulder.

“I think we made the right choice assigning you to the mess hall, hm?” He drawled as Keith slapped his hand away and jolted back away from Sendak’s touch. “This is why the Galra have had to teach you what warfare really means.”

Keith couldn’t stomach another word. He gave Sendak a stiff bow and turned on his heel, ignoring the mocking taunts and innuendos from the gathered soldiers.

No one would meet his eye. It became more and more apparent the closer he got to the main camp, and just when Keith thought he could lick his wounds in peace, a sharp strike at the back of his skull left his teeth rattling. He fell to his knees. It didn’t matter how quickly he got to his feet, pain still throbbing where he’d been hit, but only laughter answered him, as the one responsible disappeared into the mob around him.

Then Chen was by his side, concerned and nervous, hands fluttering over Keith’s frame as he pulled him up. His concern was genuine, but he was an unwelcome invader in Keith’s personal space. “Come on, let’s get out of here. It’s okay, I’ll get you cleaned up. We don’t have to be here. I was so scared.” 

Keith shrugged him off with a sharp jerk, and he wished Chen would understand that right now, he couldn’t handle anyone but himself.

 

* * *

 

Shiro watched the lieutenant go as the adrenaline in his veins burned itself out. He found himself disappointed.  _That_ was the glint warrior that caused such a stir? He looked younger up close. If he was older than Shiro, the prince would’ve been shocked. He wasn’t strong, he sneered inwardly, and pointedly refused to think about how much more effective the soldier’s punches were compared to almost anything he met in the arena. With a little training and if he could keep his emotions in check, the solider might be a real threat someday.

Yet the lieutenant had given Shiro an idea, a dangerous,  _treacherous_  idea, but it nearly had him bouncing on the balls of his feet. The Lady goddess worked in mysterious ways, and if this was Her will, She always favored the most cunning. 

His guards had already reattached his chains for the depressing trek back to the slave pens, but Shiro jerked in their grip. “Commander Sendak!” He called out, stopping everyone in earshot, including the Galra himself. “Commander Sendak,  _sir.”_

He shuffled closer, ignoring his handler’s attempts at keeping him steady. Then Shiro met those bright, piercing eyes, and froze, quietly rethinking his choice. Sendak had been right. Getting his attention was always a gamble.

He threw back his shoulders, trying to dredge up just enough of his royal bearing that he didn’t appear as a challenge and gave  a small bow. “You said that if I won, you would offer me a place as a soldier. I’ve done what you wanted.”

Sendak paused, narrowing his eyes at the sudden display of obedience. “You just said that you’d never be one of our soldiers and now you’re changing your mind?” He drawled, tracing a finger down Shiro’s face. It was an insult, an intimate gesture for a lover or a concubine, not a warrior, but Shiro locked his spine and didn’t let himself flinch.

“I changed my mind, sir. It was a generous offer, and I accept.”

A meaty hand cupped his jaw as Sendak laughed. “You think that beating one little Sun soldier means you’re worthy of joining our ranks? They’re weak, they bend over for the Galra almost as fast as you do.”

Shiro hissed and pulled away. “I’ve beaten everything you’ve thrown at me! I’ve taken down monsters in your arena, I’ve humiliated that soldier just because you wanted it. The Sun Kingdom has always respected warriors, it’s my right to demand a place as a free soldier. Or do I need to beat a few Galra too?”

The threat hung in the air and Shiro realized he’d gone too far when Sendak’s smile grew cruel and lazy. “You think you think you could be one of us?”

“I-I…” Shiro backpedaled, trying to find the right balance before it was too late. As a soldier, he would be able to find a way back to his homeland even if he had to swallow his pride and pretend to swear loyalty. Anything was better than being in chains without any hope of escape. “I apologize, I would never-”

“No, I think that’s a good idea, boy. Why don’t we make a Galra out of you? There’s something vicious in your soul, I’ve seen it in the arena. We’ll have to break you apart to get to it.”

“ _Sir._ ” Shiro said, twisting the venom in his voice into something more beseechingly submissive. It didn’t matter. The commander had already signaled his guards, and Shiro was dragged out of the training yard, fear spreading like wildfire through his veins. He was lead through the compound, to a large building that he’d only seen in passing and never so close. The barracks.

Without warning, Shiro jabbed his elbow into the closest guard’s gut, knocking him down. It as a mad attempt before his shackles started to burn from the spells etched into the metal, and he gasped in shock. Before he could fall, Sendak yanked him closer, hand tight around his chains, and the heavy links around his ankles nearly sent Shiro to the ground.

“Never let it be said that I’m not a considerate leader,” Sendak drawled, his warm breath fanning over Shiro’s cheek, and the slave recoiled instinctively. He laughed at Shiro’s discomfort, his voice almost kind as he said, “I’m giving you what you want, boy. A chance to prove yourself.”

He personally escorted Shiro into the building. It had spartan furnishings, the only sign of any opulence in the damaged shrine to the Golden Empress that had been pushed to the corner of the room. A few soldiers lingered, business interrupted with the new arrivals. They didn’t salute their commander, but they stood up straighter, and eyed Shiro with an almost wry sort of curiosity.

“To the brave and diligent soldiers of Emperor Zarkon’s army,” Sendak announced. “I have a job for you.”

He kicked Shiro’s legs out from under him, sending the slave crashing to the wooden floor with a clatter of chains. “This slave thinks he has what it takes to be a Galra.” The suggestion was met with hoots and catcalls as Shiro pulled himself painfully up to his knees. “I think we need to see how much Galra he has in him. Or how much Galra he can take.”

“No!” Panic shot through Shiro’s body, the thought of what was going to happen choking him. He couldn’t breathe, terror wrapped around his chest like iron bands as he fought to free himself. All of his calm, practiced skill was gone, there was just the frantic fear of a trapped animal, mind too frozen to think of anything but  _escape_. He never made it off his knees.

Too many hands kept him down, pinning his arms with chain and dragging him, kicking and snarling, across the floor. A pair of soldiers looped the chain over a heavy weapons wrack, forcing Shiro to dangle with his arms over his head, his toes barely touching the floor. “Don’t, please!” He was already begging, straining towards Sendak as if the commander would spare him.

Sendak sauntered over, the soldiers stepping back out of deference to their superior. He ran a hand down Shiro’s front, enjoying the way the arrogant slave trembled at his touch and tore the dirty cotton shirt open. Shiro’s skin was marred with scars, some still red and tender, and the man flinched as Sendak traced one with his finger.

“Make sure he remembers this.”

He dug his grip in, and Shiro whimpered in pain. “They say their Lady goddess keeps them writhing in the moonlight ‘til dawn. See if he can last that long in the day.”

He’d barely taken a step back, when his men approached, and Shiro’s entire body quivered with unrestrained fear. “Wait! Commander, Master, please! Please, sir!”

The words were cut off his tongue with a sharp slap that sent Shiro reeling. Sendak never turned back.

“Needy bitch. Whining before we even start,” a Galra soldier leered, his thick, dark braid curling past his shoulders, and Shiro inhaled sharply. All at once, he pulled himself up on his chains, swinging a kick at the man’s chest, before using him for leverage to snap another’s jaw. He fell one soldier, then another, his arms quaking with effort, sweat beading down the side of his face. His body ached, exhausted after his match with the lieutenant, but panic pushed him further than he thought he could take.

There was just too many of them.

A sharp punch to the chest knocked the wind out of him. Someone grabbed Shiro by the hair and slammed him into the weapons rack, again and again, until he felt bile creep up his throat and his body went limp. Suddenly his chains were loosened. Shiro collapsed on the ground in a heap. Blindly, he tried to move away, panting for breath as cruel laughter rang through his ears.

“A spitfire,” he heard, as strong arms settled over his hips, dragging him closer. He was knocked into the ground, a heavy boot pressed against the back of his head. Shiro couldn’t see anything, but he could feel the way they touched him, their fingers digging into the meat of his thighs so rudely, holding him open as slick oil dribbled over his skin. 

“Stop,” he croaked, eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to stop the room from spinning. “Please stop.”

All they wanted was to make him scream.

They took him apart, thick fingers working into him until Shiro cried out. They traced down his taint, dribbling oil between his legs and working him with long, firm strokes until his body hardened against his will. 

One man with an ugly scar curved around his jaw pulled Shiro up until his back bowed and slapped him so hard his vision blurred. He gasped at the blow as the man started unlacing his pants, presenting a grotesquely swollen cock. “You bite me, bitch, I make a eunuch out of you. You don’t need your dick for us to fuck you.”

The Galra tapped the head of his cock against Shiro’s mouth, smearing a drop of precum against his lips before forcing his way inside. Shiro gagged, jerking backwards as the man’s hand closed around his throat, squeezing down to keep him tight as he fucked Shiro’s mouth without mercy. Shiro’s eyes rolled, unable to beg or even breathe, drool running down his chin.

“You’re hogging his pretty face.” One man growled, but the other Galra refused to give up his prize.

“He’s got other holes, go find one.”

The youngest of the soldiers dug his hands into Shiro’s ass, spreading him open and spitting on his slicked hole. “I saw the way the commander mounted him, we’re lucky he decided to share after that show.”

Shiro was finally allowed to breathe, coughing hoarsely as the dark haired Galra stroked himself and laughed. “Pl-lease.”

“You hear that, he’s already begging you to take him.” The young Galra rubbed his cock through Shiro’s oiled cleft, pressing the head of his cock through the captives tight ring and sinking down into him with a groan. The scar-faced soldier kissed Shiro roughly and swallowed down his scream.

There was nowhere Shiro could turn. His body burned as he was used, taken hard and fast. The soldier made him bounce on his cock, the slick wet sounds of skin on skin utterly obscene in the still air. Dark spots prickled at the corner of his eyes, but that didn’t stop the Scarface from taking his mouth. He kept his grip hard on the back of Shiro’s collar as he gagged, the head of his cock kissing the back of his throat. Shiro tried to fight back, banging his fists against the man’s thighs, but he yanked him up by the hair and ground his shaft in, burying himself until Shiro’s nose brushed against his wiry pubes. When Shiro’s arms gave way under his weight, someone pulled him up by the collar, forced him steady.

When they were done, someone else just pushed in.

He lost track of who they were, what they wanted. He moved with them, let them twine rope around his throat, and spill cum past his lips. It was the only way Shiro could cope, but he still sobbed when he was split open, cunt swollen and gaping, dripping with their seed.

They liked his mouth. They liked rubbing their cocks against his lips, and cumming across his cheeks. They liked watching him fight back tears as he swallowed them down. They liked making him wail, and hit him when he wouldn’t stop.

Shiro stopped fighting, drowning in the taste of them, the smell of them. He was filthy and debased, guilt choking through his senses, but it didn’t mean anything to the soldiers. 

The worst part was when they forgot about him. They left him hanging from the rack like a broken ornament, until a new soldier arrived or curiosity returned anew. The joke could only last for so long, then he was nothing but a toy for them to use, pliant and obedient. Just the way they wanted.

 

* * *

 

Keith paced from one side of his room to the other, fuming. There was only a few steps between the two walls, barely enough room for a bed, a desk, a chest, and a small brazier of coals to keep out the evening chill. As small and plain as it was, it was private and one of the best perks of his ranks.

If he managed to keep his rank after today.

Sendak had baited him and he’d fallen for it. The commander had been looking for any excuse to bring him down and after getting beaten by a slave, all the respect he’d built over the years through skill and sheer determination was gone. He was a failure, he could feel that settling over his skin like a brand for everyone to see.

The war was out of his reach. The only thing in his future was cleaning up Galra slop in the mess hall. The Goddess must be so disappointed with him.

A short knock shook him out of his misery and Keith yanked open the door, scowling up at the soldiers who crowded into the hall. Galra. Keith had to bite back a snarl. “What is it?”

“The commander wanted to send you a gift.” One of the soldiers said as they dragged Shiro’s limp body into Keith’s room and dropped him in a heap on the floor. “He felt like you might want your turn with him after today.”

“ _Get. Out._ ” Keith said icily and the soldiers gave him a mocking salute before he slammed the door behind them. Sendak was just rubbing it in now and the worst part was that there was nothing he could do to stop it. He whirled on the captive sitting in the middle of the floor. “This is your fault!”

Shiro didn’t hear him, eyes glassy and pupils dilated dark. He swayed slightly on his knees, skin flushed with a sheen of sweat. When Keith snapped at him again, the slave didn’t even react. Keith stalked over and yanked Shiro’s head up. They must have given him something to make him pliant and needy, another insult to deliver Shiro so incapacitated that he wouldn’t pose a ‘threat’ to Keith.

He was ruined, the soldiers hadn’t even bothered to clean him up before dumping him on Keith’s floor. They’d dressed him in thin strips of transparent silks, stained and torn, that did nothing to hide his body or the deep red, painful looking erection between his thighs. They’d made him up to look like a whore, but the gold paint ran down his chin and tracked down his cheeks like tears.

The slave made a soft noise, eyes sliding closed as he nuzzled against Keith’s hand obediently.

Keith recoiled like he’d been stung.

A rush of revulsion threatened to overwhelm him, and he took an unsteady step back to watch in slowly dawning horror as Shiro curled into himself, his arms wrapped around his middle. “Please…”

The slave slurred out the word, voice husky with delirium, and it looked like it took everything he had just to keep still. There were new bruises on his thighs and forearms, and more peaked out from under his collar.

This wasn’t right. Keith’s anger rattled in his chest like a pacing tiger, desperately seeking an outlet, but he outright refused to turn it on Shiro. This wasn’t the man who’d defeated him. This brand of revenge would leave Keith hollow.

“Can you move?” Keith sneered, voice rougher than he intended, but the prisoner didn’t respond. Keith sighed with his entire body, crouching down to the other man’s eye level. “Hey. Hey  _Shiro_ , can you do something?”

He cupped his cheeks, checking his irises with quick, clinical precision. Keith almost didn’t hear Shiro answer. When he did, he froze. “Hurts… It hurts.”

It felt like an age passed as silence lingered between them, and Keith swallowed thickly before giving the other man a more thorough examination. His skin was tacky with sweat, and worse. The story of a disobedient slave was written in his skin in angry reds and sickening puce.

“Okay.” Keith whispered, more for his own benefit than Shiro’s. “We can do this.” He dragged him to the bed and helped the other man lie down. Shiro went willingly, only too happy to curl into the cool cloth, and didn’t move in the time it took for Keith to find a wash basin.

Shiro groaned as Keith began gently sponging a cool rag against Shiro’s skin to clean away the worst of the mess. The slave didn’t fight, and as much as Keith hated him, he couldn’t hate this vulnerable, injured man who leaned into his touch like he was desperate for anything gentle. Sendak would have expected him to hurt Shiro, use him like they had, or to punish him. That was why the Galra could never understand real honor.

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble.” Keith said softly, brushing Shiro’s damp hair back from his face and pressing the cloth to his temples. The slave mumbled something incoherent, grasping at the sash around Keith’s waist with clumsy fingers. Shiro made a breathy whine, widening his legs in a wanton display and Keith looked away, blushing like he was a naïve teen. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He growled, prying Shiro’s hands out of his clothes.

He finished briskly, pulling a worn cotton blanket over Shiro’s body. None of his clothes would fit the broad-shouldered warrior, but he couldn’t leave him exposed. Keith moved to retreat when one hand shot out, grabbing him by the wrist with surprising strength.

Keith bit back a yelp as Shiro stared at him with unfocused, fever bright eyes. He didn’t speak and Keith was unnerved as he pushed Shiro back to the futon and settled him down. The slave moaned to himself, slipping his hand between his legs to ease his ache and Keith turned away, trying to block out the hitching breaths and the sound of skin on skin.

Even after everything he’d seen, the sound of rustling fabric was the most obscene thing Keith had ever heard, and Shiro let out a choked plea. Keith refused to hear the rest. 

Without another word, the lieutenant fled his own room. He needed a really, really long walk.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was barely over the horizon, but Keith was already marching across the Garrison to greet his troops. He was still their lieutenant and the soldiers were his to command. He had a responsibility to make sure they were as ready and able to defend their kingdom, even if they were just slopping food in the mess hall.

He found them at their usual post, too well trained to yawn or fidget, and standing at attention. Of the nearly 20 men assigned to him, five were missing. “Chen, report. Where are Abiodun, Marciel, and the others?”

The soldier stepped forward with a quick salute, trying to mask his discomfort. “Sir, they ah…they requested a transfer to a different brigade, sir. I’m sorry.” He added at the end, quailing under Keith’s stony stare. Keith could feel everything start to crack, the pieces sliding away before he could figure out how to put them back together. Who would want to serve under a disgraced laughingstock?

Keith’s expression was grim as he nodded. “I see. Then that leaves more work for the rest of us. Men, let’s move. We start with a three mile run.”

Back across camp, Shiro squeezed his eyes shut like he could convince himself he was still sleeping as the sound of distance voices from the training yards woke him. He yawned and stretched, body pulling strangely with aching muscles and deep throbbing bruises. Fragments of memory slammed into him and his eyes flew open, frantically searching the small, empty room for his tormentors.

There was no one. He was alone in a warm, soft bed. A simple soldier’s pallet, but the nicest he’d had since his capture. Sheets settled around him, stained from the night’s activities. He had been…they had… _where was he?_

A set of clean robes were folded on the ground next him beside a dish of bread and dried fish wrapped in paper, and a wash basin was tucked into the corner of the room. Shiro wasn’t chained. His slave shackles still rested snug against his wrists, but nothing else connected them.

All Shiro knew for sure was that last night, he hadn’t been here, and what he could recall made his chest ache. His pulse kicked up, and a cold sweat broke across his brow, wild fears ripping a moan out of him before he could imagine control, and he tucked his face into his knees, rocking in place like he hadn’t since he was a child.

Shiro didn’t know how long he stayed that way, wracked with panic and unable to move, but when he uncurled, an emptiness settled where his heart had been. No one had interrupted him. When he pulled himself out of bed, he washed and dressed quickly, and wolfed down his breakfast with almost sickening speed. It was a simple meal. Considering everything, it was the best he’d had since he’d been taken from his home.

The robes were too big. The long sleeves fell over his fingers, but they made him feel better, like having a clean slate changed perspective.

When he crept out the door, he was surprised to find himself along the fringes of the Garrison’s compound. He had full view of the long, high wall that separated them from the rest of the Capitol of the Sun Kingdom, and the promise of escape made his knees buckle.

His heart caught in his throat, hope singing through him so strongly he swayed. Home was on the other side of the wall and a thousand miles away, but for the briefest moment, it felt so close. He took a step forward, drawn towards his freedom before the sound of clanking armor interrupted him.

“Are you lost?” The soldier asked suspiciously, taking in the shackles around Shiro’s limbs and the heavy collar around his neck. Panic struck again and Shiro shook his head, retreating back across the camp to the relative safety of the slave pens. His hands shook so badly that his cuffs rattled, lungs pulled tight. This wasn’t like him. He had faced down monsters and demons, he’d trained to be fearless, but right now, he felt like his mind was breaking apart. All he wanted to do was scrub his skin raw and cry until it stopped hurting.

He made it back to the stifling slave pens without being stopped and whispered a soft healing prayer to hit his body back together. The ache was deep and every step felt like he was tearing himself open. The Galra weren’t gentle lovers.

The thought made him heave and he crouched behind the latrines, purging what little was left in his stomach until he slumped against the wall.

“Shiro?” He barely flinched as Matt helped him sit up, refusing to look into the other slave’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” He said roughly without any trace of emotion. “Just sick, I guess.”

Matt didn’t comment on the ugly bruises that stood out starkly against Shiro’s scarred skin and helped the other man stand. “Come on, we need to get to training before they come looking for us. I can get you water if that will help?”

Shiro knew he could barely move, but the training masters wouldn’t care about a slave’s wounds. He was driven passed his limits, exhausted and traumatized, but to them, he was just one more collared beast that needed to perform. He vaguely wondered what the punishment would be if he just went back to bed. It couldn’t have been worse than the night before, he thought to himself on the edge of hysterical laughter.

Matt looked at him weirdly, noticing some of what Shiro couldn’t say, but Shiro didn’t have it in him to placate him. Instead, he just started towards the slave training grounds, a far cry from the clean, spacious area that Emperor Zarkon’s army used, but Shiro hadn’t realized how different they were until now.

They were the last ones there. The old instructor, a retired warrior of the Horde fixed them with a displeased gaze, but he didn’t say anything. The criticism came from the other end of the yard, and it froze Shiro’s blood in his veins.

“It seems our new Champion is getting cocky. A few victories have gone to his head. Does not the Goddess favor humility?” Sendak strode out into the field, and Shiro couldn’t stop his knees from buckling. He swayed unsteadily, resisting the urge to flee, but only barely. He still took an uneasy step back as the commander approached, smile revealing too many sharp teeth. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

 _No more,_ Shiro pleaded, the words buzzing on the tip of his tongue. _Please no more._

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” This many interruptions was unprecedented, and the instructor bristled, but Keith had gotten used to people’s displeasure long ago. Keith was still in his training gear. “The gwailo is in my service.”

“ _Your_ service?” Sendak looked down at Keith with his one good eye, sneering cruelly. “I denied your request for the slave as I remember.”

“Really? Because I remember your men gifting him to me last night.” Keith drew himself as tall as he could and put a possessive hand on the back of Shiro’s neck, praying the slave didn’t choose this moment for a display of aggression. “They said he was from you and I’m not done with him yet. Unless you’re taking back a gift?”

The insult charged the air with electricity. The Galra might have been cruel and violent, but the rules of hospitality ran deep. If Sendak had given him a gift, it would have been shameful to take it back. Sendak bared his teeth in irritation. He’d meant for the slave to be another humiliation, salt in the wound. Keith wasn’t supposed to _keep_ him.

With a dismissive wave of his hand to show how little Keith or his whore mattered, Sendak made sure his parting shot stung. “I guess you really do get off on failure. No wonder your people like to bend over for the Moon rats.” The other Galra snickered and turned their backs on them as Keith struggled to swallow his pride. He gave a sharp tug on Shiro’s collar.

“Come on. You belong to me now.”

Their little audience watched them with rapt attention as they fled. Shiro outpaced him the farther they got, taking long strides that Keith couldn’t help but notice.

“Slow down.” Keith hissed, yanking on the back of his shirt.

“Walk faster,” Shiro snarled, and did not slow down.

They raced all the way back to Keith’s private room, trying not to look like they were racing. When they got there, Keith was scowling, but Shiro was breathing hard. Sweat dripped down his brow, and he’d gone pale under his dark tan.

“Why couldn’t you just stay here?”  Keith took a step away from him. He already sounded annoyed, but searched for a cool wash cloth to shove in Shiro’s stupid face.

“What the Hell did you do to me, you glint?!”

Every word they spoke was as brutal as any strike. Shiro let fear sharpen his arsenal. He didn’t know what the lieutenant was capable of. Just because they shared an enemy didn’t mean he could be trusted.

Keith was taken aback at the question. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything to you!”

“So I just showed up naked in your bed covered in-” Shiro’s voice broke and he backed away, feeling like he was going to be sick again. He pressed his hands against his forehead, curling into himself as he struggled not to fall apart. He didn’t remember everything they did to him, but the proof was written in his skin, and Shiro didn’t feel like he would ever be able to scrub the feel of their hands from his body.

“I didn’t!” Keith wanted to be righteously indignant, but it was hard being angry when he could see the fear on Shiro’s face. He switched to cold efficiency, unsure of what else to do. “They brought you here last night and all I did was clean you up and put you to bed. I have no interest in touching some Moon kingdom rat. The only reason I’m doing this is because Commander Sendak crossed a line.”

It wasn’t the complete truth, but he wasn’t about to tell the prisoner that he’d felt sympathy for his pain. Keith gestured to the small room. “You’ll be staying here instead of the slave pens. You can rest, no one will bother you. I’ll keep you unchained on your word that you won’t try anything stupid. Understand?”

Shiro narrowed his eyes, feeling trapped. A soldier’s personal pet wasn’t any better than an arena slave.  “Touch me again and I’ll kill you.”

“I wouldn’t touch you if I was paid to.” Keith snarked back. “So you’re safe. Now stay put, I’ll get you something to eat and you… rest, or something.”

“And what are you gonna have me do in your service?” Shiro sneered, turning the question into an insult, and Keith bristled like a trained dog. His thoughts turned on himself, mouth pinched into a thin line as he jabbed an accusatory finger in Shiro’s direction.

“I will _tell_ you.”

Then the lieutenant turned around and left without another word, his ears a brighter shade of red than the setting sun.

Shiro snarled and angrily flung himself onto the bed. It was only in the silence that followed that he let himself cradle his relief, tucking it close to his heart, where no one else would notice. His body ached in places he didn’t know it could, and the chance to lay still felt like bliss. He strove to collect himself. He would be ready for whenever the glint returned, but despite his best efforts, between one moment and the next, Shiro lost the battle with his exhaustion, and let sleep take him far away.

When he woke up, the moon was high. There was a plate of rice and seasoned tofu by the side of his bed, and the golden cloak clasp of a senior officer was attached to the front of his shirt. It seemed to glow in the faint light. That was surprising enough. What completely floored Shiro was seeing a sleeping lump on the far end of the room. The next time Shiro woke, it was just after day break. There was soup cooling on the table, and the soldier was gone.

After three days of the same thing, Shiro suspected Keith wasn’t going to tell him anything. Shiro kept his clip.

They fell into a pattern. Shiro healed slowly, his best efforts to remain vigilante torn down by the chance to finally rest. He would wake up to find food and clean clothing, and his strength slowly returned. He stopped sleeping as long, finally daring to look around the lieutenant’s room. There wasn’t much to see. Keith lived the frugal life of a soldier, with no sign of any personal wealth, but Shiro found more books and scrolls than he expected, their ink smudged from frequent readings. He knew enough of the Sun Kingdom’s language and their culture to guess their purpose. He just didn’t expect a barbarian to be so studious.

Shiro took to the old habits he’d kept as a prince, and resumed his meditation and training. It was the first step putting himself back together. Eventually he found the courage to venture outside, and visited Matt when the day was quiet, and was shocked when the other slave cried, so convinced he was that Shiro had been killed. Shiro promised to visit more.

If it wasn’t obvious that Keith was avoiding him, it became soon enough, when the lieutenant returned early from duty while Shiro was in the middle of his practices. He took one look at Shiro, who balanced on only his hands while his feet strove to touch his ears, and retreated the way he came.

It was almost funny. Shiro would have been convinced he’d made Keith up, if not for the food that continuously reappeared by his bedside. He kept meaning to talk to Keith about that. They never got the chance.

There was only one incident when they spoke. Shiro had woken in the middle to the sound of wood clanking, but his mysterious roommate had already risen. “Go to sleep,” Keith urged him, but left without an explanation. Shiro didn’t know exactly what happened, but when he ventured out of the room the next morning, the wall of their home had been scrubbed clean

It wasn’t until two days later that Shiro finally learned the reason why. “He’s a laughingstock.” Matt said sorrowfully as they sat together one evening after the arena slaves had finished their training and were binding the day’s wounds. Shiro set a bowl of rice beside Matt, and the other slave fell on the food like he was starving. It left Shiro feeling guilty. His days were filled with boredom, but no one had touched him since Keith had claimed him, and the food was definitely better. The not dying in the arena was a big bonus too, he thought wryly.

“He’s a glint, he’ll get over it.” Shiro said harshly before remembering Matt was the same. He murmured an apology. “That was unkind, I’m sorry.”

Matt just hunched over his meal. “I know he’s not the warmest person, but there was a lot of hope riding on his shoulders. He got higher than any of us, it was nice to see one of our own with the Galra.”

“Is it really that bad?” He thought back to Keith’s awkward avoidance and his silence. He carried out whatever duties kept him busy all day and never spoke a word about it.

“You should hear the things they’re saying about him. They’ve even started writing _things_.” Matt refused to elaborate, but the creeping blush around his ears gave away what kinds of slurs the soldiers preferred.

“Just eat, don’t worry about him. I think your Keith is a lot tougher than you think.” Shiro said with a frown, watching the sun dip below the horizon.

He headed back to Keith’s room when the shadows lengthened and the sky faded from purple to black. No one stopped Keith’s slave, but now that he knew to listen, he could hear the muffled whispers and laughter whenever anyone recognized him. That must have been what Keith had washed from the side of his home. No wonder he seemed so frustrated all the time, there was no way to be a leader when your men refused to respect you.

That night, Shiro sat on the edge of the bed and waited. As soon as Keith walked into the room, he was cornered. “They hate you, don’t they? They call you weak because I humiliated you in front of the others.”

The accusations came fast and Keith was at a loss, staring in shock at Shiro before he furrowed his brows and let the anger filter in. “So what?” He snapped, brushing past Shiro and unbuckling his armor. “That’s not your problem. Stay out of my business and stay here like I told you.” Keith hooked his breastplate up to the armor stand and turned to leave, but Shiro blocked his path.

“Why are you doing this? If they hate you so badly because of what I did, why are you keeping me?”

“Get out of my way, I need to go do stuff. And things. And just move!” Keith huffed and Shiro blinked, struck by the sudden realization that Keith hadn’t been avoiding him to be cruel or to play mind games, but because he honestly didn’t know what to say. The thought was so absurd that Shiro gave a choked laugh, which just made Keith scowl harder.  

“Stop laughing at me!” Keith snarled, realizing he sounded like a petulant child but unable to stop himself. He wished he could take back the words, but they left him flushed with embarrassment, so ashamed he was shaking. He never should have asked. He’d been fighting long enough to know that people never listened.

Keith lowered his eyes, quietly reigning in his frustrations before the slave could take advantage of them. He just needed to play the long game. He’d built himself up once. He could do it again. Or so Keith told himself. Some days, it was harder than others to believe it. He didn’t wait around to hear Shiro’s response, but that was all right. Shiro didn’t have anything to say.

The prince tried to stay up to meet Keith, but he didn’t return to his room, nor did he return on any of the other nights Shiro waited. In the morning, there was always food waiting for him. It was frustrating, but he drew the line at waiting in the dark for the soldier to come back. If he didn’t want to face Shiro, then it wasn’t Shiro’s fault he was such a _coward_. (Except the insult didn’t feel right, and Shiro couldn’t quite seem to find one that did.)

Then one day, during an early evening that felt like any other, the door to their private room opened and Keith came home. He didn’t say anything, kept his head down, but there was crimson smeared across his armor and his shoulders slumped like he carried the weight of the kingdom on them. In some ways, he did.

Keith started removing his gear, and folded it on a stand, before he took a rag to it to wipe away the grime. There was an almost ceremonial reverence to his routine. The Horde found worship in all aspects of battle. Shiro didn’t realize he’d shaken Keith so badly before, until he noticed that he’d interrupted the practice.

Shiro knew he shouldn’t ask and that he definitely shouldn’t care, but the days and weeks of silence was weighing heavily on him. “Are you alright?”

Keith didn’t answer, too tired to play games today. He was a fighter, but even the Goddess’s most devout servant could be ground down and exhausted from the constant abuse. The Galra were mocking him openly now with the silent permission of their commander and he spent more time on his hands and knees scrubbing the mess hall than he did in the training yards. His men were abandoning him, he shouldn’t be surprised. Keith knew what it was like to be let down.

“Keith…”

“Can you not do this tonight?” Keith finally snapped. “Not tonight. I just need to sleep, okay? We can go back to arguing tomorrow.”

“Fine.” There wasn’t as much heat in Shiro’s voice as they should be. Without his armor and his anger, Keith just looked young and defeated. Shiro sighed and set the kettle on the low burning brazier, heating water for tea. When it boiled, he carefully steeped the tea and handed one porcelain cup to Keith who took it with a confused frown.

“What’s this?”

“Tea.” Shiro said like it was obvious, taking the second cup and sitting on the edge of the bed. “You look like you could use some.”

“If you want a chance to kill me, pick up a sword.” Keith said, but it sounded like a perfunctory answer. If Shiro wanted him dead, well, he would have plenty of opportunities. The slave didn’t respond. Instead he took back Keith’s cup and took a sip, before refilling it and returning his offer. Keith looked at his hand for a long time before he accepted and resumed his cleaning. Pig’s blood. It could have been worse.

They hadn’t attacked him outright. They still knew they couldn’t beat him there, not unless they stalked the odds embarrassingly, but they attacked his men. It was a game, and Keith surrendered piece after piece as he failed to protect them. Except they were playing with human lives, and he couldn’t fault his men for wanting to keep theirs. It was miserable enough under Galra rule without a target on your back.

“Why did you do it?”

The question caught him off-guard. Keith assumed Shiro would go back to ignoring him. It seemed the only peaceful alternative to fighting. “What?”

“Help me.” Shiro said, softer and more patient than the last time he asked. Keith didn’t know what to make of that. “Keep me here.”

Keith fidgeted, clearly unnerved. He spoke to his cup of tea instead of Shiro. That made it easier. “You can defeat an enemy without taking their dignity.”

“But keeping me here is making it worse. Why don’t you send me back to the slave pens?”

“Because no one deserves to be treated that way, not even one of you gwailos.” Keith said. He wrapped his hands around the delicate cup, finally taking a drink and letting the warmth seep into his body.

Kindness, it had been the last thing Shiro had expected in this place, especially from one of the glints. It threw him off balance. Shiro slid off the bed and joined Keith on the floor, setting them both at the same level. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Keith squirmed uncomfortably and Shiro realized that the soldier was nervous. Somehow, it made the soldier seem more human and Shiro let his guard down slightly. He unfastened the gold cloak pin from his shoulder and held it out in his hands. “Where did you get this? It’s got a pretty powerful healing charm on it, you must have a lot of talent. I haven’t seen anything but the Galra druid’s magic since I’ve been here.”

“I didn’t do anything. It’s a protection talisman, awarded to those of rank.” Keith snorted, but internally, he wondered if they’d let him keep it if he was dismissed. Keith reached to take the clasp and winced, body protesting even the smallest movement.

“You’re hurt!” Shiro leaned forward, but Keith waved him off, refusing to acknowledge the pain as his body tensed. He had admitted enough weakness in front of Shiro, he didn’t need to be humiliated any more. He had lost everything, his pride was the only thing he had left.

“I’ll sleep it off,” Keith dismissed, downing the rest of his drink even as it scorched his tongue. He had a conversation with a gwailo, and no one got hurt. What was the world coming to?

He pushed himself to his feet slowly, trying to avoid another stab of pain. He didn’t move slow enough. The lieutenant inhaled sharply, abdomen clenching tightly. He would have fallen over, but suddenly there were strong arms around is waist, and when he leaned forward, Shiro was there to catch him. Keith stiffened, something bitter and hateful curling in his belly. No one should see him like this. He had to keep it together.

Except the slave remained silent. He just helped Keith to his feet, and when Keith turned to the blankets he’d been using for the past few weeks, Shiro stirred him towards the bed. He kept his hand on the small of Keith’s back as Keith sank into the cot, a tired sigh rattling through his chest. His hands hovered uncertainly over Keith’s flank, before the soldier pushed up his shirt. Shiro went still.

“What happened?”

There was something in his voice that made Keith look away. He didn’t want to look up and see pity on the other man’s face. Pity or disgust. It was all anyone seemed to have for him lately. “Accident.”

He refused to say anything else.

Shiro quietly took the golden talisman and pinned it to Keith’s shoulder, watching as his pain eased slightly. “They fight like you do, you know. The Galra do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith was too tired to even pretend to be angry.

“That means they focus on the attack. It’s all about overpowering your enemy, wearing them down. If you want to protect yourself, you need to stop wasting all your energy in fighting back and turn their own attacks against them.” He said, soothing his hands over Keith’s side. The soldier shuddered but didn’t pull away.

“You mean fight using tricks like a coward.”

“I mean fighting smart. It’s not always about brute strength, but your people aren’t good at accepting that.” It was a mild insult and Keith just snorted. “I could teach you?”

That got Keith’s attention and he propped himself up on his elbow, suddenly suspicious and annoyed at his own curiosity. Shiro’s fighting style wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before and he couldn’t help but be intrigued. “Why should I trust you?”

Shiro shrugged one shoulder and smiled. “You don’t have to, but what else do you have to lose?”

Keith closed his eyes, those words cutting deep. _What else did he have to lose?_ He had nothing and no one, and he hated that Shiro was right.

He hated that Shiro could see it, too.

“Okay.” He said, a soft, quiet concession that cost him too much, and Shiro’s smile turned grim.

“Let me clean this up.” The swelling looked bad, but Shiro knew where Keith kept his poultices. The soldier remained complacent as he worked, the only sign of his discomfort the way his hands balled into fists and how tightly he locked his jaw. His entire body seemed to unwind when Shiro was done. His long bangs had fallen over his eyes, and all at once, Shiro had to resist the urge to brush them away.

“You have to be more careful,” Shiro admonished, but gently. “They haven’t won yet.”

When he walked away, he felt the soldier’s eyes on him, but that no longer felt like such a burden. In the morning, breakfast was waiting for him, and after lunch, Keith was waiting for him, too.

 

* * *

 

“No, relax your stance. You’re too tense.” Shiro said with a small chuckle as Keith just huffed, putting up his guard. He moved to strike and Keith knocked his hands away, fists aiming for Shiro’s throat. He never had a chance. Shiro caught his wrist, guiding Keith forward passed his shoulder and used the momentum to throw Keith to the ground.

“Close, but you’re still anticipating a direct attack.” He reached down to help Keith to his feet as the Sun soldier scowled and resumed his stance.

“Again.”

Shiro moved again as Keith attacked, trying to shift his weight and anticipate each blow. He snarled as he tried to land a hit, but Shiro just hooked his hand around Keith’s elbow and sent him rolling to the dirt. “Close, you just need a little more practice.”

“This is ridiculous!” Keith snarled in frustrating, picking himself up. “Why can’t I just _get_ this? I should be better.”

“It took me years of study to learn how to fight, you can’t expect to master it all in one day. Patience yields focus, you need to calm down.” Shiro took up his guard and went through the motions, moving through them slowly to demonstrate, but Keith was even more astute than Shiro realized.

“You weren’t a soldier, that’s why your fighting style is so different than the other captured Moon soldiers. You were a priest.”

Keith wasn’t looking at him. He’d turned his focus inward, repeating the motions he’d been taught, but imagining a weight in his hands. He’d run the exercises over in his head multiple times, but neither broadsword nor dagger quite fit. They were usable, and that slowed him down. A chain worked best, something that could tangle an enemy’s wrist when they were caught off balance; twisted the right way, it’d disarm them.

“The chained scythe,” Keith said, adapting his stance slightly as he moved forward, and mimicking a basic attack position without having been taught. “No wonder you were so good in the arena. It’s not your first time fighting monsters.”

Shiro had fallen silent, too much fear written across his face for him to hide. Keith’s expression fell when he noticed, twisting into something that managed to be concerned and offended in the same breath.

“I won’t tell anyone.” He huffed. “It doesn’t change anything.”

He needed to be more careful. His life was worthless if the Galra discovered who he was and a glint might choose his Galra masters over an enemy prince. Shiro swallowed hard and tried to keep his hands from shaking as he moved back into the starting position. “Try it again.” He said, refusing to confirm the accusation.

Keith quirked an eyebrow in confusion before mimicking the stance and moving with him. He was able to deflect one blow before slipping, moving into an aggressive form and Shiro knocked him on his back. “UGH!”

”You were close that time, you’re getting better.”

“But not fast enough. This is a waste of time, I’m never going to get anywhere with useless deflection techniques.” Keith grumbled, and stood to grab his cloak. “ You stay here. I’m done, I have work to do.”

“Sure you do,” Shiro muttered under his breath, but Keith had already left in a huff. He rolled his eyes to the Heavens, quietly complaining about arrogant soldiers with no patience as he pushed the furniture in the room back to their original positions. They only had a small area to work with, but it was worth it to maintain privacy.

Still, it was good to feel like this again. Tired, but in a simpler way, a cleaner way. He’d be sore all over in the morning, but it was a soreness he recognized from an easier time. It almost felt like he’d done good work. It almost felt like he was himself again.

Later that evening, it felt even better. Now that he knew Keith was being targeted, Shiro took a meandering path along the outskirts of the compound to avoid being seen, for his own self-preservation and for Keith’s sake. Keith didn’t need any more ammo used against him. As he crossed into the shadow of the mess hall, he saw a shadowy figure, just a little ways off, practicing a foreign technique with the clumsiness of a beginner and the determination of a master. Keith was still wearing his work apron.

And in that moment, Shiro realized that maybe he liked the glint a little more than he thought he did.

 

* * *

 

Something had changed between them, Shiro couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was. Something was different in the way Shiro set out the bowls of food on the cloth mat on the floor and Shiro strained the leaves from the tea and poured two steaming cups. Maybe there wasn’t a word for it, but the silence between them had thawed into something familiar.

They sat together and shared a meal, and for the first time, Shiro didn’t think Keith was trying to run away in the middle of it.

“You’re not what I thought you’d be.” Shiro finally said something and Keith just stared.

“You thought I’d be something?”

“I thought you’d be different, everyone in your Kingdom. We all grew up with these stories and I thought they were true. But it’s the Galra, isn’t it?” Shiro faltered for a minute, memories threatening to pull him down before he shoved the thoughts aside and buried them as deeply as they’d go. “I guess there’s honorable men even in a place like this.”

Keith kept his face buried in his bowl so he didn’t have to look up. “Not many anymore. We used to be better than this.”

“And you keep trying to be, don’t you? You’re a stubborn son of a bitch.”

“Gotta be a stupid one, too.” Keith said, but he didn’t sound disappointed in that. “You gwailos wouldn’t know the difference, but battle doesn’t have to be about violence. Battle isn’t the same as slaughter. Those knot head fuckers don’t understand it. They hate the people they protect as much as their enemies. They’ll run the kingdom to the ground if they keep this up. Someone has to stop them.”

“And the people they’re already hurting? We can’t wait for a revolution.” Shiro scowled.  

Keith was quiet, staring down into his meal, before he whispered. “We were wrong to let this happen.”

“That doesn’t help any of the people in the slave pens!” Shiro let out a breathy sigh, leaning back against the bed frame. Keith wouldn’t look at him, until Shiro nudged him with his ankle. Then all he dared was a glance. It looked almost demure. If Shiro didn’t know better, he’d say it was shy. He changed the subject. “You’re too young to know. How…?”

“The elders still talk,” Keith answered. “And as long as they kept their head down, the Galra left them alone. They do have their limits, even if there aren’t that many of them.” There was a bitter tinge in the way he smiled that fit too well on Keith’s face. Shiro didn’t like it.

Shiro inched closer. Keith let him.

“You know, I thought all gwailos were whiter than powder and blew away in smoke h-ey!” He protested huffily, rubbing his arm where Shiro had jabbed him with his finger.

“Feel like smoke to you?”

Keith was so shocked, he burst out laughing, and Shiro laughed with him.

The Sun Kingdom was a viper’s nest of corruption and misery, but here in this small room, belly full and laughing, Shiro felt almost human again for the first time in months. He looked towards the window where he knew the moon had already risen, letting the smile linger across his lips.

“Things are simpler there. We don’t paint the walls with gold and silks.” Shiro said, closing his eyes and thinking of the Moon Temple with its serene gardens and austere halls. He’d never known a place that felt so peaceful, he hoped something had survived.

“We’re just as real as you.”

“But you have spirits and monsters in the Moon Kingdom, right?” Keith leaned forward, eyes lit with a spark of excitement as he imagined the battles.

“Don’t you? The things in the arena aren’t close to human.”

“Not in the capital, the monsters in the arena are captured and brought to the Galra druids for whatever experiments they do to them.” Keith made a face. “They’re the only ones who can control them, all our priests are gone. The Galra don’t even let women join the army anymore!” Anger and frustration crept into his voice and Keith had to stop. These were treasonous thoughts and he should know better than to say them out loud.

“You really want to make a difference,” Shiro said, startled by the realization. It was one thing to emulate the traditions of a past life. It was completely to actually want change. He saw his own fears mirrored in the young soldier’s face, the fear of discovery, the fear of failure, and it settled something in his chest. Just like Keith had, Shiro made his own promise. “I won’t tell anyone.”

At best it was an illusion of power, but Keith took his offer seriously. Shiro didn’t think he was lying.

“Like I said, stupid.”

Shiro didn’t disagree, but he nudged Keith one last time. It was a suicidal mission, one that was already going up in smoke, and Shiro almost wished it would succeed. They finished the rest of their meal in a comfortable silence, drifting in and out of each other’s space without even realizing it. There was a moment’s pause, when they both went towards the bed at the same time, then with a pinched scowl, Keith shoved him towards it, and turned towards the blankets on the far side of the room.

 

* * *

 

Shiro felt his heart beating like a drum in his throat, sand in his teeth and sweat running down his back. Around him, the crowd screamed for blood, faces twisted grotesquely into something that wasn’t human. They were cheering for him to die. He tripped over his own feet, backing towards the center of the arena and desperately searched for a weapon. There was nothing, he was unarmed and the crowd just roared louder.

A thick chain wrapped around his neck and jerked him backwards with enough force that he thought he’d broken his spine. He hit the dirt with a wheeze, fingers scrabbling against the metal as he tried to tear it off so he could breathe. Shiro never got a chance before his enemy hauled him up, gasping and choking, to his knees.

Sendak’s laughter shot terror through him as the Galra cupped his face, tracing his thumb against Shiro’s bloody lip. “You’re always going to be mine. My pretty, obedient Champion.”

 _Master_. Shiro didn’t know if he managed to gasp out the word or if he just surrendered, but his body rocked with sobs as Sendak bent down to kiss him.

Shiro woke with a strangled shout, chest heaving and legs tangled in sweat damp sheets.

It felt so real, and the weight around his throat seemed twice as heavy as it had been. Shiro didn’t want to touch it, irrationally afraid that the metal would spark and burn. It had been weeks since he’d felt that punishment, but he still remembered it with too much clarity. His hands were shaking, heart beating so quickly he was sure it would finally break through his rib cage. Tear him apart the way his tormentors already had.

“Hey-”

Shiro jolted, spine snapping with tension as he jerked against the wall, hands outstretched and ready to attack. Between his fingers danced starlight, like liquid silver, all his fear, all his pain twisting with the promise of relief. Keith stared in awe, and something in Shiro’s chest clenched because he knew this was where it all ended, where everything unraveled, unless he stopped the lieutenant first. He didn’t expect it to hurt so badly.

“Put it away, Shiro,” Keith whispered. Light reflected off his face, turning him into a ghost. “Door’s locked. No one else is here.”

“I-I, I’m not…” Shiro stuttered, curling his hands into fists to hide the tell-tale glow of power. Did Keith suspect? Would he guess that Shiro could possibly be the missing Prince? He didn’t want to have to kill him, there wasn’t a chance to escape yet and oh Goddess, he could still feel Sendak’s mouth on his own and the sweet way surrender felt. His thoughts came too fast to understand, white-blinding terror paralyzing him.

He was stronger than this, he was a warrior! Why was he breaking down?

“No one has to know you’re a priest.” Keith said, wrapping his hands around Shiro’s and slowly settling in behind him. He spoke softly, like he was trying to calm a panicked animal. “I’m not going to say anything.”

Shiro tried to pull away and wedge himself in the corner where he could protect himself, trembling so badly his teeth chattered by Keith wouldn’t let go.

“Shut up and let me help you.”

Keith held his gaze until the tension slowly unspooled between them like thread. He didn’t ask for an explanation or apology, and he didn’t offer any reassurances beyond the ones he could give with careful hands and steady arms. Anything else would be a lie.

The fear had taken its toll and Shiro slumped in exhaustion, letting Keith coax him against him. Shiro didn’t resist when the soldier wrapped his arms around him as if Keith could protect him from whatever demons stalked through the shadows of his mind. Shiro didn’t fall asleep until almost dawn, Keith pressed tight behind him, lulled into an weary stupor. The soldier kept his vigil until the sun rose.

Keith had needed something to believe in, faith the only thing he had left. He just never thought it would be faith in someone else.


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re leaning too much to your left again. You’re giving away your strategy.”

Keith hit the ground with a grunt, arm throbbing where he’d landed on it while trying to stop his fall. It was just after sunset. His limbs were aching and sore after a day of scrubbing floors, but he grit his teeth and pushed himself back up, scowling down at a sparring partner who had no right to look as pleased as Shiro did.

Shiro’s hair was plastered to his head, twisting in wet curls around his ears and his cheeks were flushed with effort, but the goddamn gwailo was grinning. “I thought you wanted to learn something.”

Without warning Keith dropped into a crouch and swung his leg out to sweep Shiro off his feet. His opponent just barely dodged, struggling to keep his balance as Keith kicked forward on one knee and aimed a punch for his chest. Shiro parried him, slamming his elbow down to try and knock Keith out. Except Keith moved with him, mimicking the trajectory of his attack for a few, perfect milliseconds. Then he caught Shiro’s arm and tugged to send him towards the ground as Keith pulled himself up. Shiro caught himself at the last second and rolled to his feet.

“You talk too much.” Keith wheezed. He sounded ridiculously proud of himself.

Shiro laughed. Then he showed no mercy.

The grunts and groans of combat echoed through Keith’s tiny room. They’d spend the earlier afternoon clearing as much furniture as they could, piling all of his belongings on top of each other to create a makeshift training yard. It was terribly small, but it forced them to think with new strategies, and had the unexpected benefit of recoloring the gossip that always seemed to linger around Keith.

Maybe the strangest part was that they both enjoyed it. Keith excelled at the training, tackling each move with the obsessive fervor of a zealot. He started each lesson determined to get it right. Shiro enjoyed the challenge and a tenuous sense of camaraderie that he hadn’t had in over a year. When he was here, it was easy to slip back into his role of teacher and mentor. It made him feel human again, more like himself than he had since that night at the Moon Temple.

Keith was a part of it, Shiro couldn’t deny it. The young soldier had become something of a confidant, bound by a common enemy and a continuously growing respect for each other. It didn’t hurt that he made Shiro laugh. Or that Keith looked good doing it. It felt like treachery to consider a Sun soldier a friend and worse that he noticed Keith’s…

The soldier took advantage of Shiro’s sudden distraction and swung his body up, using his weight as a counterbalance to roll him down. He pinned Shiro flat and Keith laughed in surprise, cheeks red from exertion and excitement. Bright eyes found his own and Shiro was suddenly aware of Keith’s weight against his hips, the long line of his body, and the tension in Keith’s muscles. They stared at each other, panting slightly through parted lips as something passed through the air like electricity.

It was over in an instant, Keith stood, awkwardly rubbing his shoulder. Shiro was slower to his feet, but quicker to recover from the embarrassment. “You’re getting better.”

Keith might not recover until next week.

“Right. I have to, _you_ have to go. Because it’s late. It’s late and you should get us something from the kitchens. I’ll just do things.” Keith said, sounding exactly like he was spewing the first words he could think of. It felt good to see the lieutenant so flustered, and Shiro let a smile curl across his face, though he forbade himself from examining the feeling too closely.

Keith was already readjusting his desk, returning order to his room. There was a splash of red across his nape. Shiro made sure that he would remember it.

“Whatever you say.”

He was in a good mood all the way to the mess hall. Shiro had to school his features before he gave too much way, but not even that could dampen the spring in his step. He’d been knocked on his back, but it felt like he’d won. Matt noticed as soon as he saw him.

The slave was coming out of the service entrance of the hall, just as beaten down and tired as Shiro, but nowhere near as buoyant. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, just picking up a little food.” He said with a smile for the other man. “Let me get you something, too.”

Matt just nodded gratefully. “Thank you. You are, you’re doing okay, right?” He didn’t mention Sendak by name, but the Galra hung in the air unspoken. It had been easy to see the way Shiro was breaking under Sendak’s attention and there’d been no way for the slaves to protect each other. Shiro tensed slightly but gave the other slave a shaky smile.

“Things are better.” Shiro said carefully. “I’ve been able to avoid his attention and Keith is-, you were right about him. He’s more honorable than I thought.” Keith was nothing like Shiro had imagined, and it left him feeling unsteady. He was something new, something gentle in this place that had been nothing but misery. Shiro wasn’t sure he could have survived without him.

It must have been clear on his face because Matt returned the smile. “I’m glad you found a little peace.”

“We’re surviving.” He slung an arm around Matt and gave him a hug. “We’re going to get through this, I promise. I’ll get you home someday.”

Matt looked like he’d aged years in the time they were sentenced, and his time in the Garrison was written in the scars that peeked out of his clothing. There were deep lines on his brow and around his mouth that hadn’t been there before, as prominent as the healed gashes across his arms and just beneath his collar. He grinned with resentment that wasn’t new, but that Shiro could only clearly see because of how light his heart felt. “I’ll settle for a bowl of rice.”

Shiro didn’t argue, but he wished he could. He entered the hall.  As always, no one stopped him, but the more time he spent around Keith, the more sensitive he was to the heated whispers that always seemed to follow him. They’d died down a few weeks ago. Shiro focused on making his way to the kitchens and keeping his head down.

He took as much as he could carry in small wicker baskets, chipped ceramic bowls tucked into the packaging. Matt was waiting for him a little ways off, in the shadows of the building, and when he handed him his food, he started shoveling it into his mouth, well-aware that he may only have seconds for his meal. It was a habit that Keith had unintentionally coaxed Shiro out of. Their privacy was so absolute, it was easy to take for granted.

“Thank you,” Matt whispered. When he spoke, Shiro saw a little of that terrified young man he’d first met all those months ago, soft-spoken and kind, and too bright for a place like the Garrison had become. “It’s… It’s good to see you doing so well, Shiro. Does the lieutenant know you feel that way?”

“What way?” Shiro’s response was a little too sharp.

“Safe.” It was an illusion, but a kind one. Matt touched Shiro’s arm gently. “I’m glad you have that.” It made Shiro’s heart ache and he pulled the other man into his arms. Sun people or not, they were the same in chains. Shiro swore to the Lady that he would get Matt home someday, no matter what he had to do. The two friends sat together in silence until they were forced to part.

He couldn’t get Matt’s words out of his head. Keith had made him feel safe in an enemy land, human when he’d felt like nothing. But more than that, he treated Shiro as a friend. He had seen Shiro at his most vulnerable and instead of being cruel, he’d been kind. And he’d shown his own vulnerabilities too, buried beneath his angry irritation and his habit of running whenever he felt awkward. Maybe Shiro could keep him safe too, somehow.

Convincing Keith to escape with him and Matt would be difficult, but the longer they stayed here, the more likely Sendak would find a way to punish them both. Shiro wasn’t sure he’d survive it again. Would Keith run with them or would he be too stubborn to save himself? That was a problem for another day, right now Shiro just wanted to bring back dinner and maybe Keith would spend the evening teaching him about the Sun Kingdom’s history.

Shiro paused outside the door, frowning at the sound of muffled voices in Keith’s room. There never were any visitors, not unless they were trying to scrawl more crude slurs outside the window. Curiosity got the better of him. It overlapped with an unfamiliar surge of protectiveness that he couldn’t quite justify, and he nudged open Keith’s door.

Shiro had thought they could leave before Sendak moved against them. He was wrong.

It took him a moment to recognize the other voice in the room. Chen was one of Keith’s subordinates. He’d only met the soldier a handful of times, and he was the only one from the 27th brigade that Shiro had ever been properly introduced to. He’d never heard Chen sound so soft-spoken. “Yeah, incentive to take in anyone who served under you. The Commander’s pushing hard.” He said. “That’s Napan, and Kassir, and-”

“That leaves four.” If Shiro thought Chen sounded strange, it hadn’t prepared him for the quiet vulnerability that weighed down Keith’s words, and he had to stop himself from moving in. Four was an unlucky number in both the Moon and Sun Kingdoms. “There are only four of us left…”

Keith trailed off, and it was almost too much to bear. Shiro was already mentally retracing his steps, preparing to make his entrance. He cursed Sendak under his breath. From what he knew, Shiro could guess that he was poaching the members of the 27th brigade. Keith needed to know he wasn’t alone.

“They approached me, too you know.” Chen said, and that stopped Shiro in his tracks. “I wouldn’t do it. I’d never leave you.”

Keith made a soft sound of irritation and Shiro could almost picture the expression on his face. “We’re not much of a brigade with four men. I think, I think that we need to find another way.” He sighed heavily, slamming his fist against the desk hard enough to rattle the wood.

“We can still do this, Keith.” There was a brief pause, Chen using his name in a breach of protocol. “I’ve been by your side this whole time, and I’m staying no matter what. It’s you and me, it always has been.” The soldier’s voice held something hopeful and needy that made Shiro’s stomach drop. “We could be more than just this. We could be partners, we’ll find a way back into Sendak’s good graces together. I’m sure the Commander will be willing to listen to reason if we show him the proper respect and I, and  _we_  could be together.”

“I’m not going to bow to that asshole.” Keith said shortly.

“I’d do anything if it meant fixing this for you. I love you.”

Shiro held his breath as silence settled on the other side of the door. Annoyance prickled underneath his skin, racing through his veins, and it left him keyed up and antsy. He just didn’t realize how strongly he felt until he had to fight the urge to interrupt them.

“I can’t do that.” Keith said at length, terse and sharp. Shiro wondered if Chen knew him well enough to notice how sad Keith was. He couldn’t have known Keith very well, Shiro thought bitterly, if he’d suggest something so stupid.

“You won’t bow?” Chen asked. He didn’t sound surprised, but there was a hint of condescension in his tone when he spoke. “You were always so proud.”

“No, Chen. I’m sorry. I can’t be with you like that.“

“Yes you can! Just give it a chance.” Chen pleaded. “You don’t have to make up your mind now. Just don’t say no.” He sounded so desperate that it made Shiro look away. How could this soldier tell Keith that he should go groveling to Sendak. There was no way he’d ever agree to that, he couldn’t!

“Stop begging, it’s beneath you.” Keith wasn’t cruel, but he offered no comfort. “We’re going to keep fighting, and if you believe in what’s right, then you’ll fight too. I’m your Lieutenant, I can’t be anything more for you. I’m not  _good_  at this.” He finished lamely.

“But-” There was the sound of creaking armor as they moved, Chen saluting Keith and dashing from the room so quickly, Shiro was almost smacked with the door. Chen gave him a dark glare as he brushed passed, striding away with his head held high. Shiro peeked inside as Keith put his hands down on the desk and rounded his shoulders, trying to keep himself together.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, and Keith snarled his answer.

“Fine.” Then he scrubbed a hand over his face, breath coming in shaky huffs, before he repeated, “I’m fine. Sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Keith helped him set out their dinner. It was closer to cold than not, but neither of them seemed to mind. For the first time in months, the silence between them was uneasy. Keith was still in his training clothes, and Shiro couldn’t believe things had changed so quickly.

“I ran into a friend outside the mess hall. That’s why I took so long,” Shiro offered an explanation to a problem no one had noticed. He’d expected his excuses to sound more natural, but Keith didn’t look angry. The lieutenant hadn’t looked up from his bowl.

“Thanks for dinner,” Keith said, getting to his feet. He hadn’t eaten much. This was a new side of Keith. It wasn’t the shameless avoidance of his annoyance, or his pinched frustration when he didn’t think he did well enough. The soldier was quiet and unhappy, and Shiro didn’t like it. He left Shiro to his own devices for the night and crawled into bed the first chance he got.

He didn’t expect Shiro to follow after him, with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Is this okay?” Shiro asked softly. Keith didn’t reply, but he made space for him, and wrapped his blanket tight around both of them.

Shiro had this aura of calm around him and Keith was more than happy to fall into it. Chen had been loyal through every setback and every humiliation. He was a constant and Keith wondered if he’d taken Chen for granted. He wasn’t comfortable with social interactions. It was hard to read intention and he never had the attention to care. It wouldn’t have been fair to be anything less than honest, but Keith thought it would cost him his most trusted subordinate.

And it was difficult to think of anything else when Shiro was sitting so close.

“It’s not going to matter anyways. It’s just one more story about me when they call me a eunuch. It’s gossip, it’s unimportant.” Keith sounded like he was trying to convince himself and Shiro didn’t know how to comfort him.

“But are you alright?”

“Of course I’m alright. Chen acted like a fool, he should know better than to pursue something like this. I told him the truth, he needed to hear it.” Then quieter, “Do you think he’s going to leave too?”

For a moment, Keith looked so young and Shiro’s heart ached for them both. They were caught up in a war that wasn’t theirs, trapped by circumstances they couldn’t control. The embers in the little brazier glowed a dull orange and steam still curled from the teapot by the fire. Outside, the night singing birds announced the end of day. “I don’t know.”

“I could be kinder to him. More affectionate?” Keith said and Shiro’s heart skipped. He had no right to feel jealousy or anything else, he’d just gotten too attached to Keith over their months together. They’d spent too much time together and Shiro was so desperate for any sort of compassion that he’d let himself feel things he shouldn’t. Shiro told himself to answer as truthfully as possible. It still didn’t feel like enough.

“It’s cruel to feign affection for someone you don’t want. Cruel to them, and to yourself.” Against him, Keith quieted, his arm tucked under his pillow, expression unreadable before he turned over. “You’ll find a way to fix this.”

“You’re right. I’ll have to.” There was a note of finality in his words, but even Shiro could tell it was a burden. “Good night, Shiro.”

“Good night…” But sleep wouldn’t come easily. He listened to Keith’s breathing even out, felt the tension drain from the younger man’s back, and yet peace eluded him. Shiro tried to tell himself that there was a way to detangle himself from the emotions that twisted in his chest. He told himself that it was only loneliness and sadness that had birthed his affection, and yet with Keith’s hand resting so close to his, all Shiro wanted to do was hold it.

As the days passed, Keith didn’t improve. He’d always been quiet, but the silences in their room were heavier now (it was  _theirs_ , it had been theirs for a long time now). Keith stopped training with Shiro, not out of choice but necessity. There were times he returned home, and simply fell asleep, still wrapped in his armor. Even though he’d lost his troops, Keith’s workload hadn’t changed, and all his men were suffering for it.

“You can’t go on like this,” Shiro said, quietly noting the way Keith slumped against his bed post. “You’re working yourself to the bone.”

“I don’t know what to do.” It was the first time Keith had admitted it out loud. Shiro’s heart went out to him. “I can’t blame them for leaving. When they chose me, I made them targets.”

The service to the Golden Empress was dangerous enough. At least Keith used to be able to keep his men from being torn apart by the rest of their ‘allies.’

“You’re still a good leader.” Shiro started, and to his surprise, Keith burst out laughing. It was a self-deprecating sound, but there was something oddly arrogant bout it.

“No, Shiro, I’m not. I don’t know my men. I didn’t even know my most loyal squire.” Keith sad sadly. “Most of them stayed with me because I freed them. They followed because I was strong, not because I knew what I was doing, and now, I can’t protect them anymore.” 

“You don’t wear self-pity very well,” Shiro admonished but gently. He shouldn’t have been shocked. Keith had tried to free him before. He should have known he wasn’t the first. “You’re still their lieutenant. You just have to remind them that you’ll fight for them.” 

The silence may have been stifling, but it brought an unexpected gift. Every night, Keith would quietly ask if Shiro would sleep by his side and shyly make space for him on the soldier’s bed. Sometimes, Shiro said no, opting for the more spacious, if not less cushioned, futon on the other side of the room, and Keith never argued with him. Most nights though, he gave into temptation. It happened so frequently that Keith stopped asking.

Shiro didn’t know that Keith would take his suggestion to heart. He’d forgotten just how goddamn reckless Keith could be. Then there was a knocking on Keith's door.

“Shiro!” Matt pounded on the door to Keith’s quarters like he wanted to break it down. If Shiro didn’t recognize his voice, he’d have readied a weapon. He’d barely managed to unlock it when the other slave came bursting in. “Shiro, Keith challenged a Galra  _brigade_  to a duel! They’re going to gut him!”

“What?!” That hot headed, impulsive  _idiot!_  If the brigade wasn’t going to teach Keith a lesson in pride, Shiro might have to himself. How could he be so reckless? They had probably goaded him into it, Keith was too thin-skinned to let the insults slide. Now he was going to get himself hurt, or worse. Keith might have been a good fighter, but he was still too impulsive. A real leader would trust their abilities but know they couldn’t take on so many men alone if they could avoid it.

Shiro had to make sure Keith wasn’t alone.

They raced through the camp, ignoring the startled soldiers who watched the two slaves barrel through the training yards. He followed Matt to a cleared grassy patch where the army practiced their drills and tried to shove his way through the crowd of people who’d gathered around to watch.

“Keith!”

His friend couldn’t hear him as he took up his stance against the smirking Galra soldiers who joked with each other.

“He’s a lot smaller up close than I realized. We’ll have to be careful not to break him in half.”

“You think he’ll want to bend over for us like he did for that slave? Getting his ass beat might be what turns him on.”

Keith snarled. That was their only warning. Then the lieutenant launched himself at his enemies. He moved with liquid grace, trying to strike fast enough that they would be caught off guard and battering them backwards. Shiro’s heart caught in his throat as one of the soldiers managed to recover and lunged at Keith. Keith shifted forms in an instant and Shiro recognized the rolling stance of a Moon Kingdom technique. He followed the motion of his opponent’s strike, and sent his opponent off balance with a quick yank before following through to knock him to the ground. Shiro felt like cheering.

His new forms were imperfect and still novice, but he melded them into his fighting style seamlessly. He didn’t stay still to weather oncoming attacks, he was elusive as he made his enemies chase him, made them fall into each other. Where a traditional Sun soldier would have blocked an attack and returned his own, Keith moved with his enemy, turning their attacks against them. He waited until they left themselves open and struck at their vulnerabilities instead of barreling straight through the soldiers’ defense.

Then a flash of steel caught the sunlight, and a scream fought to break through Shiro’s throat. Suddenly Keith was a blur of motion, catching his opponent and wrestling him for dominance. In the end he shoved him to the ground where his partners trampled him. When Keith emerged, his face was a mask of red, an open gash bleeding down his cheek, but he held the knife in his outstretched hand.

“The owner of this blade can find it later.” He sneered, brandishing it threateningly at the Galra troops. “Though I don’t know where he’ll find his dignity.”

He caught Shiro’s eye across the crowd, and with full confidence in his partner, he threw the blade towards him. The prince was ready. He plucked the weapon out of thin air and made it disappear. No one had time to care. Keith was on the move again, taming his opponents one by one.

Tension started to ripple through the audience he’d gathered. Galra soldiers shifted impatiently, insulted and disgusted by the display. It wasn’t over, but it had gone on for too long. But one by one, members of the Horde stepped forward, blocking anyone who thought to intervene with the battle. It was an unfair fight, but it was one the lieutenant had demanded, and more than one of them wanted to see the outcome.

Then Commander Sendak arrived.

“Enough.” The word cut through the commotion and the Galra snapped to attention. Keith glared, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth before finally offering the commander a sullen salute. The men parted as he stalked through them, taking in the fight without a word. The fallen soldiers groaned, trying to get back up to their feet. There were very few left standing to help their injured brothers.

“Get out of here.” He growled as they tried to bow and retreated. “All of you, get back to your duties or I’ll have you all whipped!” The crowd scattered, leaving Keith and Shiro standing against Sendak. The commander turned his scrutiny on the upstart and his pet slave. “I should have you flogged for insubordination.”

“They’re the ones who challenged me! I had to defend my honor,  _sir._ ” The respect was added as an afterthought and Sendak bristled, but he couldn’t tear the lieutenant apart so publicly. At least not with his hands.

“If I see you fighting again, I’m going to have you tied to a post in the center of camp and lashed for everyone to see. Do I make myself understood?”

Keith saluted and gave Shiro a nod. “Absolutely, sir. It won’t happen again.” After the beat down he’d given the men in front of the rest of the troops, no one would be stupid enough to challenge him again. Then again, the Galra could be terribly stupid.

The conversation was fraught with tension, but Shiro had barely caught any of it. He stood frozen in shock, too stunned to even breathe. It was the first time he’d seen Sendak since the commander left him in Keith’s care, that day on the slave training grounds. In his dreams, Sendak was taller, more grotesque, and strong enough to bring the stars to kneel. Somehow, seeing him in the light of day was more terrifying.

It was the first time he’d held a real blade in a long time.

He’d noticed the carvings before he tucked it into his robe. It was a weapon of the Horde, probably stolen from one of Her soldiers. He’d noticed the symbol of the Empress carved alongside representation of Her sun. It was heavy in his hand, a good, solid weapon that had been sharp enough to cut his hand on. Shiro was stronger now than he ever had been as a slave.

The months of recovery had worked wonders. He didn’t train the way he used to, but he’d rebuilt his strength, put himself back together piece by piece. Sendak had no idea who he really was. Sendak had no idea what he was truly capable of.

There were days when the banging of a door made Shiro’s skin crawl, days when Keith terrified him by accidentally dropping his helmet, days when the smell of sweat and blood made him want to curl in on himself and scream. Simple, mundane things, but they left him petrified with fear, battling panic he wished desperately that he could out run. They came up less and less, but the memories still haunted him, and some days, when he least expected it, when he thought he was doing so  _well,_  he unraveled. He never knew who he hated more on those days, but he knew who he blamed.

Shiro hadn’t fixed himself completely, and they would kill him right after. There was no escape, and this was only one enemy in a fleet. But he could make sure Sendak never hurt anyone else again.

“Shiro?” Keith asked, voice almost too rough. “Let’s go.”

He almost didn’t hear. Shiro ran his thumb along the sharpened edge of the blade, a whispered spell shimmering sliver along the metal. It could all be over in a moment, no more nightmares or memories. Sendak would die in a twist of silver and blood and he could finally have peace. Rage beat through him, the world focusing down to the weapon in his hand and Sendak’s smile.

“Shiro.” Keith put a hand to Shiro’s arm and shook him until the slave blinked, momentarily confused. Blood dripped down his thumb where he’d cut too deeply and Keith gently took the blade from Shiro’s numb fingers. “Come on.”

“If you don’t want to go with him, pet, I’m sure I can find another use for you.” Sendak’s voice chased them back over the grounds as they retreated. “I still have so much to teach you.”

By the time they made it back to their room, Shiro was trembling. He grabbed Keith by the shoulders, and shook him so hard his thoughts scrambled. “What the hell was that? You could have been killed! I know enough about survival not to challenge so many men by myself unless I have to. You’re letting your pride get in the way, what do you think would have happened if you lost?”

“But I didn’t lose.” Keith said simply. “And you told me I should fight.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Yes you did!” Keith pulled himself away and glared. “You said that I should fight for my men and that’s what I did. I wasn’t going to lose.”

“I, but, that’s not what I meant.” Shiro sputtered. “It wasn’t a literal fight.”

“Really?”

Shiro groaned and sat heavily on the bed. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!”

Keith was fuming. He’d gone bright red with embarrassment, and the very tips of his ears looked like they were going to melt off. He was looking everywhere but Shiro, mouth pinched in a firm, unhappy line. Shiro did the worst thing possible. He burst out laughing.

“Hey. Shiro, _hey_.” Shiro waved his hands in front of his face, and for one moment, it looked like he was going to get himself under control. Then he looked at Keith’s face, and fell apart all over again. “Shiro!”

Keith pounced, and Shiro shrieked, bringing his hand up uselessly to bat at the pillow Keith shoved on his face. Keith was one giant joint, sharp and jab-y, and Shiro couldn’t stop laughing. They rolled and scuffled, and Shiro squished Keith’s face in his own as he landed on top of him, using every inch of his height advantage to keep the younger man pinned.

Then all at once, Keith’s expression turned serious, eyes narrowed with focus that burned like an inferno, the way it did when he was faced with a new, challenging exercise. ”You’re hurt.” He said, taking Shiro’s hand in his. He looked his thumb over with such scrutiny, Shiro flushed.

“It’s not going to fall off. It’s just a cut.”

“Yeah, well. You should still take care of it.” He shoved at Shiro until he moved and grabbed some clean bandages from his chest and settled himself back on the bed. He cleaned the wound silently, trying to ignore the way the flush kept creeping up his neck. Keith’s hands lingered longer than they needed to and he swallowed hard.

“Thank you.” Shiro smiled and gave his hands a squeeze. “Promise me that you won’t go challenging anyone else to duels when you’re outnumbered, even if you do win. Sendak is just waiting to get his chance to break you and if anything happened to you… I just don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I’m not going to let him touch you ever again.” Keith’s promised fiercely, reaching up to cup the side of Shiro’s face before realizing he’d gotten too intimate and stammered, turning away. “I, um. I promise I won’t get into any more fights with the Galra unless they really deserve it.”

“Keith.” Shiro warned.

“They needed to be taught a lesson! I let them think they goaded me into it, but I won. I couldn’t rebuild any of my respect unless I proved myself again.”

The captive shook his head in exasperation. “You’re good, but you’re one man. You can’t do this alone, one of these times that sort of arrogance is going to get you killed.”

“Okay,  _fine_. But I want you to teach my troops your fighting technique. It’ll give us an advantage and right now, we need one. If we’re going to show everyone that we’re still the best brigade in the army, we have to use every trick we can.”

Shiro laughed in surprised. “Tricks? You’re starting to sound like a Moon Kingdom soldier now.”

“You just said I shouldn’t do this alone, so help me.”

“You’re a sneaky glint, you know that?”

Keith turned to him, an unreadable expression on his face. It brimmed with such intensity that for one moment, Shiro felt like he was drowning.

“And you’re not too bad for a gwailo.”


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Shiro joined the 27th brigade for their morning training. There were two more soldiers waiting for them than there had been the previous day. If Shiro hadn’t known how much that meant, the smile on Keith’s face would have told him.

Shiro earned a few stares when he joined him during their morning run, then a few more when he joined them for the early morning exercises as Ketih guided his men through the traditional forms of the Empress’s Path. It looked like the session would go off without incident. Then Shiro took his place by Keith’s side at the front of the class, and a pregnant hush fell over the soldiers.

Keith gave away no sign that he noticed. “We are modifying our training regimen from this point forward to study a lesser known technique. This will give us an advantage in combat that few will expect and fewer will know how to counter. Shiro will walk us through the basics, then I will explain application.”

That was as far as he got before he was interrupted. 

“Lieutenant, if I may have a word?” If it had been anyone other than Chen, Keith would have reprimanded them. Instead, he inclined his head, shoulders tensing ever so slightly as he led his squire away from the group.

“What are you doing?” Chen hissed in a breach of protocol as soon as he was out of earshot. “He’s a  _slave!_ ”

“He’s a warrior, that’s how he was captured. You’ve seen him in the Arena and you know that he beat me, too. If we want to be the best, we need to learn as much as we can from him. Especially since no one else will.” Keith said stone-faced.

“Keith, we have stood by you through everything, no matter what the others said or what humiliation they heaped on us, but this is too much. You want us to bow to your bed slave!” Chen squeezed his hands into fists, fuming. “I know you picked him over me, but now you want to rub it in my face in front of everyone? He’s nothing! He’s cattle fodder, he’s just the Commander’s fuck toy and you’re treating him like he’s better than the rest of us.”

“Right now, he is better than you!” Keith snapped. “And that’s why we’re going to learn from him. If you’re pride won’t let you do that, then maybe this isn’t the right brigade for you.”

Chen looked shocked, holding out his hands to Keith and pleading with him to see reason. “He’s messed with your head, that’s what gwailos do. You can’t trust any of those Moon people, you know that. I can give you so much more than he can. I-I, you know how I feel about all of this. We can find another way, but you really will damn us all if you flaunt your pet around like he’s an equal.”

“You can’t think that. He isn’t the only one of us to come from the arena.” Keith said, eyes narrowed into slits like he could somehow force Chen to take it back, and anyone who knew him would hear the disappointment in his tone.

“The others are different, they’re our countrymen, not some Moon Kingdom spy. He isn’t one of us. You can’t turn your back on us. On  _me_.”

“This isn’t about you, Chen. This is about doing what we need to in order to survive, and I will do everything I can to ensure the best for this brigade.”

Chen shook his head, his expression crumbling. “You say that, but you can’t even swallow your own damn pride. The Commander can fix-”

“We are  _not_  going to Sendak.” New anger lit Keith’s voice, sharpened it so brutally that Chen took a step back. “There is a glaring difference between humility and treason!”

“He’s the enemy, too! Or have you forgotten what the gwailos did to us? What they’re still doing.”

“They never turned us into monsters.” Keith said, voice like ice. “And the Galra have done more to hurt our countrymen than the Moon Kingdom ever has.”

“They’re tricksters and thieves, you can’t trust anything they say. He’s doing this to manipulate you, he doesn’t care about you.” Chen said, beseeching and hopeful. He believed Keith could still be swayed, that he could have back the delicate balance he lost.

Keith put a hand on his squire’s shoulder, and for a moment, Chen thought it was all going to be okay. “If you don’t trust him, then trust me. Please, I’m doing everything I can to help us.”

The soldier frowned, leaning slightly into Keith’s touch like he could savor it. “I’ve always wanted what was best for you, you know that.”

It was the best he was going to get and Chen sullenly took his place back in line. They trained throughout the afternoon. Keith refused to give any less than his troops. They struggled to learn the Moon Kingdom’s fighting forms with less grace and precision than Keith would have liked, but the fact that they were trying at all made him proud. They could do this, he could rebuild piece by piece until he regained his honor.  

Watching Shiro work was incredible. Keith knew he was skilled, that much was obvious, but he was a patient teacher, too. He moved through the forms slowly, breaking them down so his men could follow with kind words of encouragement. Something soft and warm bloomed in his chest. This was doing the right thing, it had to be. His eyes found Chen and his old companion’s stormy expression, and hoped that this wasn’t just another mistake. He’d lost too much already.

 

* * *

 

“I think that went well. They’re good warriors, they’ll work hard until they master this, I know they will. The other brigades won’t know what hit them!” Keith slipped his shoes off beside the door and padded into his small room, Shiro following behind. The lieutenant spoke with an optimism that edged towards forced, but there was hope in his voice, too.

Shiro gave Keith a small smile, filling the teapot and stirring the coals. The men had potential, but Chen’s words still rang in Shiro’s ears. He hadn’t meant to overhear, but it was clear the other man didn’t like him. The feeling was more than mutual. He was not some bed slave, he was a  _prince_.

It didn’t look like he was the only one who was still affected. Keith had quieted, staring at his polished armor with a tired, faraway expression that was far more telling than his exaggerated excitement. He had a lot riding on this experiment, perhaps more than anyone. Shiro broke the silence. It had begun to linger for too long. “You’re quiet.”

“You always think I’m quiet.” The lieutenant said, but he took a seat beside Shiro. It was still a while before he spoke. “I thought that when he agreed to stay that everything was going to be okay.”

They both knew who he was talking about.

“I’m not sure you’ve noticed, but I don’t have the most sparkling of personalities.” Keith said dryly. Shiro snorted.

“You’re okay, I guess.” He said, as he set out the tea set, leaning in just far enough that he bumped against Keith’s shoulder. Keith chuckled under his breath and nudged Shiro back, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

“You say that  _now._ ” Keith huffed, fighting to find the right words when nothing fit as well as he wanted it to. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair, his teeth grit in frustration. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good at words. I’m not good at  _friends_ , but Chen… Chen knew me for a long time. I thought he was my friend. I don’t know why that’s not enough for him.”

Something ugly and jealous crawled through Shiro’s skin and he quickly tried to bury it. That wasn’t fair, Chen was important to Keith and Shiro was… it was different. Friends maybe? Was that too much to ask? It was shameful to be jealous when he had no claim on Keith’s heart, but he couldn’t stop the bitterness in his mouth every time he said the man’s name. Chen was someone willing to grovel to Sendak and he had little regard for Keith’s heart.

That wasn’t fair either.

Shiro sighed and dropped the leaves into the boiled water for them to steep. “He thinks that begging Sendak is the way to save yourselves. He’s an idiot.”

“He’s a friend.” He didn’t say that Shiro was wrong. Keith set down one of the porcelain tea cups so hard that it cracked. “He’s the  _only_  friend I ever had. He’s not wrong about sticking by me, he was the first one who joined my brigade, I knew him from back when we were cadets. I’m not good at this Shiro.” He waved his arms around vaguely. “I don’t do people. I train, I fight, I study, but the rest of it? They follow me because I’m strong, not because I’m a leader. I’ve lost everything I’ve worked so hard for and if I lost Chen too, then there really is nothing left.”

 _Nothing._ A slip of the tongue or an exaggeration, Shiro couldn’t be sure, but that one word danced around his thoughts for too long. Keith’s expression crumbled in the silence that followed. He looked guilty and uncertain, and Shiro wanted to shake Chen for hurting him like that. “You have me,” he whispered, and no matter how careful the offering was, Shiro still gave too much of himself. “I know we’re taking a big risk, but I’d fight for you, Keith. You don’t have to go through this alone. If anything happened to you… I won’t let that happen.”

He gave the lieutenant his warmest smile, and painstakingly swept up the brittle pieces of his heart. Keith was stunned. It was written all over his face. Shiro inwardly berated himself for saying too much. He hadn’t meant to upset both of them. He turned back to their tea, fussing with leaves that didn’t need fussing, but Keith cried out like he thought Shiro would leave.

“Shiro, I-!” He was  _there,_  suddenly, right there, in Shiro’s space, his face twisted into something heartbreakingly earnest. When Keith spoke, he sounded pained. “Shiro I don’t know what to do around you. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. You’re… You don’t know. You don’t know how important you are to me. All I know is that I can’t lose you too.”

Keith blanched as he realized what he’d let loose, folding in on himself so quickly, it would have been funny if only Keith didn’t look so sad. “I’m sorry. I didn’t- I shouldn’t have said that.” It felt like he was drowning, horror and shame curling in his gut, and Keith could feel his heart racing as his tongue tripped over all the wrong things to say. Cool indifference never worked with Shiro. It never felt right.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, because he knew more than anyone how difficult it was it be faced with affection you couldn’t return. “I didn’t mean to say that. I don’t know what you’re going through. I can’t imagine how bad it must be. I know… I know you wouldn’t be here if you had a choice. This won’t change anything. I won’t, I’d never ask you to- Just forget it.”

He trailed off, tired and resigned. “I just want you to stay my friend.”

Shiro’s heart pounded and he gently took Keith’s hands in his. They were a common soldier’s hands, rough and covered with fine white scars, and he squeezed them tight. “I am your friend.” He said slowly, wanting to say so much more.  _I’m not this. I’m so much more than this_.

“I wish we could have met in another life or another time. It would be different then. I’m not a slave, I’m-” It danced on the tip of his tongue, a full confession. Chen thought he was just a Moon Kingdom slave, Sendak tried to grind him down into a mindless pet, but he was a prince. He was a warrior and a priest. He was destined to lead his people in a royal line unbroken for thousands of years. He wasn’t defined by the shackles around his wrists. If Keith could see that part of him, he wouldn’t have to be ashamed.

He bit down on the words, swallowing them whole before they could escape. Someday he would find a way out of this place, could he ever convince Keith to run with him? They would have to abandon everything that he had fought for, but Shiro didn’t want to think that someday he would have to leave Keith behind. Or worse, that they would be enemies again.

“You are the one good thing that I’ve found in this place. I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“I can’t do this.” Keith whispered, caught in Shiro’s dark eyes and wanting nothing more than to throw himself headlong into them until he drowned. “It’s not fair to you. It’s taking advantage and I won’t hurt you, not ever.”

Shiro’s fingers curled along Keith’s jaw, thumb sweeping along his cheek. He stared at the soldier like he was trying to memorize every inch of him inside and out and Keith felt like running again. It was always his go-to defense, to just turn and leave. It was easier than getting hurt when he inevitably screwed up some important moment or social cue, but Keith was rooted to the spot. His knees locked and refused to obey.

“I am a man, Keith. They took everything away from me, but they haven’t broken  _me_. I still have my heart and the freedom to give it to whomever I choose. Even the Galra can’t stop that. I’m going to make sure you don’t have to do this alone.” Then his voice softened into something careful and fond.  “So shut up and let me help you.” 

Shiro leaned in and kissed the corner of Keith’s mouth. 

He had been scared of how he felt, scared that he only wanted this because Keith was the only one to show him any sort of stability, scared because kindness was so rare in this hellscape, and scared that he’d tricked himself into feeling something that wasn’t real. Keith seemed like a good man, but there was an undeniable sort of power that came with knowing you controlled a person’s life, and if that was what Keith had fallen for, Shiro would only grow to hate him.

Yet Keith opened for him so willingly, a startled little whimper caught on his lips as he gave in. He moved like he would surrender everything at Shiro’s feet, cautious and uncertain, and even with everything swirling through his head, Shiro knew that he wanted to make this man happy.

“Shiro please…” Keith whispered, his hands twisting in the front of Shiro’s shirt. He didn’t know where to put them, didn’t know if he was allowed to take this much. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t.” Shiro desperately wanted to believe it was that simple, even if it meant lying to himself. “Listen to me, when I say, if I tell you to stop. Don’t…”

“Okay. Anything,” Keith promised, slow and unsure like Shiro had never seen him, and Shiro drew him in. “ _Everything.”_

This was probably a mistake, but Shiro didn’t want to think anymore. He’d hurt for so long that it was almost a relief to give in to something that felt so good. He brushed his lips against Keith’s, parting them just to taste him. Teasing, wanting, deepening the kiss until his arms slid around the shorter man’s waist and lifted him up to his toes.

Keith was warm and yielding as he pressed his body against Shiro’s, keeping him close but needing him closer. “Stay with me.” He begged as if Shiro was going to disappear into thin air.

“I’m right here.” Shiro let his hands wander to the cloth sash wrapped around Keith’s waist, loosening the worn material and slowly working it free. Keith didn’t stop him. He gave Shiro the chance to move at his own pace as he closed his eyes and relaxed into the touch. The sash fell to the floor as Shiro worked on the embroidered fasteners down Keith’s side. Smooth skin peaked through the simple soldier’s training uniform as Shiro pulled it open, dragging calloused fingertips down the soldier’s collarbones. Goosebumps raced over Keith’s skin and Shiro bent to kiss them, soft and slow like he was relearning how to touch.

Keith shrugged off his tunic and Shiro kissed each new patch of skin like he was trying to claim it and make it right. It was something new and good, something pure in a place that was nothing but misery.

“Shiro…” He moaned, twisting the name into something obscene, and Shiro couldn’t stop thinking about how well it fit on his lips as he took Keith apart. His hands wandered lower, over Keith’s hips and down his thighs before he grabbed the swell of his ass. It was good to be greedy. It was good to _want_ again, and he had an eager, heated lover who begged to touch him.

Shiro shivered as Keith dragged his nails across his scalp, moving down to his shoulders where they ran along his tunic.  _Can I? Can I?_ Keith asked with his mouth, pushing the words into Shiro’s skin with a ragged little breath. It was tender, it was careful like nothing Shiro had had in so long. It felt so right to be held again. But his fingers skimmed over his nape, slipping just beneath the heavy metal of his collar, and Shiro stiffened, a rush of terror blinding out everything that told him the opposite. It was going to ignite again. There was never any warning, but this time Shiro was sure. It was going to hurt. It was going to ruin everything.

Keith looked up at him, his eyes blown black with want, liquid with heat. His mouth was slick and open, pink where Shiro had bitten too hard, his chest heaving with effort, but he still asked, “Are you okay?” He pulled away, flattening himself against the bed post. He meant to give Shiro space, but Shiro wouldn’t let him. Instead he leaned in, resting his forehead against Keith’s brow as he struggled to catch his breath. 

“Should I stop?”

Shiro wasn’t sure he had an answer. His heart drummed against his rib cage, nerves singing with keyed up energy. He could feel Keith, hard against his thigh, could feel heat curling through his own nerves. Wanting was so exhilarating, and he just wanted to drift away with it. He cupped Keith’s cheek, drew him into a kiss. It brimmed with so much need, Shiro though he would break, and he took Keith’s hand in his, slid his palm over tunic. “Slow… Go slow.”

“Can I suck you?”

Shiro groaned, startled and blushed with arousal, but Keith had barely moved from where he’d guided him, his hands tracing his chest through hemp. He asked with an eagerness that made him sweet. “I’ve wanted to. Is that okay? I wanna feel you like that.”

“Yes.” The word came out in a breathy sigh, lost in the way Keith’s pink mouth twisted into a smile and the way he licked his lips. Shiro shuddered as Keith slowly guided him over to the bed and pushed him down. He could only watch as Keith sank down to his knees more gracefully than he had a right to be.

“Is this okay?” Keith asked, sliding his hands up between Shiro’s thighs and settling himself between them. Shiro could only nod, but Keith hesitated until he breathed another quiet  _yes_  just to make sure. Skilled fingers unlaced Shiro’s trousers, pulling the string through each eyelet as he watched Shiro’s face to make sure he didn’t go too far.

Shiro let himself relax as Keith’s hands worked him free, pulling his half-hard cock from his pants. The soldier leaned close, wrapping a hand around Shiro and breathing over his tip. “You’re so beautiful.” Shiro murmured, entire body shivering. “Keith, you’re so…”

The words cut out in a choked moan as Keith dipped his head and wrapped his mouth around Shiro’s cock, laving his tongue around the head and giving one long suck. Every nerve in Shiro’s body snapped wire tight and he gasped as Keith sat back, slowly stroking him with his hand.

“It’s okay, Shiro. I’m not going to hurt you, I never would.” Keith pressed a kiss to the inside of his partner’s thighs. “Does this feel good?”

“Goddess, yes.” Shiro slumped back against the wall, eyes sliding closed. He was so tense that the pleasure almost hurt, panting just a little too fast. He couldn’t look down, Keith’s flushed face with his lips stretched wide around him was the very limit of his willpower. He felt like he was some unschooled teen again, lost in emotion and need. His control broke so easy he should have been embarrassed if he could think of anything else but the slick, hot feel.

“How about this? Does this feel good?” He nosed against Shiro’s balls, licking down his full length.

“Keith.” Shiro pleaded, voice a strangled thing as deft fingers stroked between his thighs, then worked over his shaft. He was breathing hard, his hands fisted in their bed sheets. He didn’t notice at first just how much focus his lover gave him, how eagerly he worked to please. “ _More._ ”

“I want to make you feel good.” Keith made it sound like a plea, one he pressed against Shiro’s flushed skin. Every little sensation played on already fragile nerves, working Shiro into a frenzy he could barely contain after holding out for so long. Keith took to his new task the same way he did any other. He studied with a zealot’s focus, cataloging and memorizing every broken sound he tore from Shiro’s lips. He was intense and overwhelming, demanding perfection from himself the same way he pushed his troops, just bordering on fanatic. And all he wanted to learn was how to make Shiro scream.

It was the most guileless seduction, and Shiro didn’t know how to deny him. Never wanted to try. Keith made him ask, made him beg for more, his voice climbing every time Keith whispered another unintentionally filthy question. Shiro knew he couldn’t last, not with Keith’s fingers pressed hard against his taint, and his mouth curling sweet, sweet suction over his cock.

It was too much. It was _just_ enough.

Shiro looked down at Keith and immediately knew it was a mistake. His eyes were closed, dark hair hanging in his face with every bob of his head. He was intent on his task, working Shiro inch by inch into his mouth before coming up for air, a thin line of spit trailing from his lips to the head of Shiro’s cock. Keith swiped a drop of pre-cum from his slit, tasting the warm salty liquid with a curious fascination. He’d watched Keith take apart a new move on the battlefield just this way, breaking everything down into parts and figuring out the best way to fit them together. Shiro was another skill to master, what made him groan, what made his legs tremble and widen eagerly, what made the breath leave his lungs in a startled rush.

Keith had never been with anyone before and just like everything else in his life, he had to get it right.

He swallowed down around Shiro’s length, throat tightening around him as his partner groaned. Gentle hands found their way into his hair, guiding him down without force and Shiro’s hips stuttered. “Keith.” The older man groaned out the word before his building tension finally broke and he came. Fat white splashes of cum ran down Keith’s face, sliding down his cheek and dripping past his open lips.

Keith jerked back in shock, face scrunching up at the taste, pursing his lips up to his nose and screwing his eyes shut. Shiro picked the worst time to look. He was exhausted, spent and shaking, but he laughed. With a languid, satiated grin, he draped his arms around the soldier, trying to coax him closer as he bent over.

“Urgh, Shiro-” Keith tried to protest up, but he was already on his knees, suffering through an awkward stance as Shiro kissed him with everything he had and everything he wished he could give. The prince tasted himself on Keith’s tongue and swallowed down his lover’s startled gasp, licking into his mouth until all he could savor was Keith. Keith gave in so willingly, nipping at Shiro’s lips as he was pulled into bed. Shiro pinned him against the sheets, felt him shiver as their bodies moved together, Keith trapped hard and hot between them.

“ _Shiro_ ,” he cried, voice twisted around a startled gasp as Shiro moved over him, slow and sure and just enough to make him tremble. There was cum splattered across his cheek, his mouth was soft and pliant, parting so sweetly when Shiro ran his fingers over his lip. He was the most gorgeous thing Shiro had ever seen, and Shiro didn’t know how to keep him.

“I’m going to make you cum for me,” he promised, words pressed against Keith’s jaw. He licked him clean slowly, completely, and utterly lewd, and all Keith could do was moan. Shiro peeled Keith’s pants down and reached for the soldier’s cock, running his hand over its leaking slit before guiding it between his thighs. He held them together, strangling a broken little moan out of his lover, and Keith turned away, embarrassed by how eager he was for more. 

Keith’s body burned like a brand, all soft skin and hard muscle, and Shiro couldn’t get enough. He had been stripped down and scrapped raw, but Keith’s hands were soothing and as they moved together, promising relief instead of pain. Shiro tightened his thighs together and Keith cried out, bucking between them wildly.

“Please.” Keith curled his fingers into Shiro’s shoulders, desperate for a place to hold on. He thrust between his smooth thighs, slick with cum and sweat, as Shiro bore down on him, weight pressing him back into the pillows. Keith’s cock hard and heavy, and Shiro couldn’t stop thinking about the way it split him open. With a steady touch Shiro guided him, building a rhythm, finding a pulse in time where they could move together. Just to watch Keith fall apart. The soldier shuddered, sobbing another quiet plea as they rocked together, Shiro murmuring quiet hushes against his ear.

“I’ve got you.”

Keith’s body arched, chasing the sweet friction as his last semblance of control fell to pieces. Each grunt and moan climbed in volume, and nothing else mattered but the silky tight drag of skin against his cock, the wet kisses pressed against his neck, the heaviness of Shiro’s hips against him. He came in a rush, too surprised to even choke out a warning before he spilled across Shiro’s skin in hot spurts that left him wailing.

“That’s good. You did so good, Keith.” Shiro pulled away, just far enough that he could wrap a hand around Keith’s cock, pumping out each shuddering shockwave until he lay boneless and panting. His hips jerked again, oversensitive and the echoing ghosts of pleasure biting into pain.

Keith turned into him, blindly seeking comfort that Shiro was more than happy to give, and a giddy, excited laugh bubbled through his chest. He just barely kept it in place.

“Why’re you smiling like that?” Keith asked, squinting suspiciously up at him, but Shiro just shook his head and kissed his brow.

“Nothing, nothing. Just that… If we’d been doing this before, the whole camp would’ve heard you by now.”

“Urgh!” Keith smacked at his arm and tried to wiggle away, but Shiro whined into shoulder, holding on as tightly as he could manage when it felt like he was floating on clouds and all his bones had been replaced by air. It was okay. Keith wasn’t really trying to leave. He still scowled, a deep line furrowed between his brows as he struggled to find the words that would keep him from looking like a complete fool. “How do you not?”

He was timid and shy, and Shiro’s heart felt too big for his ribs, swelling in his chest until he was sure it would explode.

“No… No. It was perfect.” Shiro whispered, and he noted with greedy pride as the flush renewed across the soldier’s face. “You were perfect.”

For a while, it seemed like everything was.


	7. Interlude 1: The Legend of the White Lady and the Golden Empress

In the beginning, there was nothing, an endless void that swirled and boiled inside of an eggshell. The shell contained chaos and order, opposing forces swirling together in an unending dance. Finally, the egg cracked into two halves, spilling its Darkness into existence. The Darkness was greedy, quickly laying claim to the universe. 

But from that same egg stepped a young girl who looked out over the nothingness and smiled. From one half of the eggshell, she crafted the Heavens, giving breath to the sky. It was ethereal and beautiful, an untouched and eternal kingdom shaped from spirit and air. From the other half, she formed the Earth, sturdy and warm. Unlike the Heavens, the Earth she filled with life, always changing and growing. Even the highest mountains could be worn down by wind and water, but new spires would take their place. 

When she saw what she’d done, she laughed with joy so hard that tears fell from her eyes and created the delicate milky path that linked them both.

The Darkness was jealous of both kingdoms and swallowed them whole, strangling the Earth and shattering the Heavens. The little girl frowned and created the first of the Celestial Gods to protect her worlds. The Moon was the elder, with skin as dark as ebony and coiled hair around her head like a halo. She was graceful and wise, silver shimmering from her fingertips. In a burst of fire, the Sun exploded into being, golden skin shining and black hair tied back from her face. She was strong and powerful, and left the Earth shaking beneath her feet as she yelled her challenge at the Darkness.

Together, they carved a path across the skies, power flowing in all directions and beating back the Darkness wherever it may hide. The Sun fought with devastating strength, overwhelming her enemy with a mighty cry that bathed the battlefield in blue. She made a home of it and called it Day. The Moon fought with ever-changing cunning, disappearing and reappearing at will and making the Darkness fear its own skin. She splashed little pockets of light across her reclaimed territories so that all may know who reigned in the place she called Night.

Their enemy was forced to flee to the harshest corners of the Earth, in the eternal winter of the North where even the Sun’s fearsome light dimmed. Knowing that the Darkness could return at any time, the Sun and Moon continued their endless dance for the safety of Heaven and Earth.

The Kingdom of Heaven grew, Celestials joining the Sun and Moon in their paradise. There were gods of wisdom, of magic, of clouds and air, all immortal and perfect. Below them, the Earth grew in peace and life bloomed, mortal and changing. From this mortal changing world came Earth Gods, the gods of ocean, of music, of life and death. In the places where Earth and Heaven met sprang up the lesser Immortal creatures of destruction and protection, the dragons, phoenixes, and other benevolent spirits. The Celestials crossed the milky bridge to earth freely and visited with their Earthly siblings.

The Sun and Moon turned their dance into a game, a chase, traipsing sometimes into each others worlds just for a chance to touch.

It was only with the Moon that the Sun let her long hair spill across her face like ink, and it was only with the Sun that the Moon danced with all the colors of the dawn.

It was no wonder they fell in love. 

The Sun fell in love the romantic and complex Moon, who could set even the hardest heart to song. The Moon fell in love with the brave and honorable Sun, who did not know how to give anything but all of herself to those she loved.

Where one went, the other followed, laughing and loving and wanting and celebrating, with eager mouths and frantic hands and open hearts.

There was only thing that both the Sun and Moon loved more than one another. The humans. The flickering souls of light that claimed the Earth in the little girl’s image. They came down to visit the ones they loved best, sometimes together, sometimes apart. The Sun gave the most diligent her blessing. The Moon was more capricious, and blessed whoever caught her eye in the moment. They never abandoned their First Chosen. The Moon looked across the Earth and chose four high peaks for her Chosen. The Sun looked across the Earth and chose too much.

They loved each other for a long time. To this day, they love each other still, but their peace was not to last.

Though she loved her Night, the Moon realized it was too harsh for humans to bear without guidance. So she asked the Sun for a fraction of her light, so that she might bring a promise of the Day to her kingdom.

For the first time since their creation, the Sun did not indulge her lover. Though the Moon was kinder than the Sun, she could also be more cruel, so cruel that there was almost nothing to differentiate her from the Darkness that they fought. The Sun did not know how the Moon would use her power, and the Moon’s ever-changing soul meant that today’s choice might not be as gentle as tomorrow’s. 

With a heavy heart, she denied her lover, beseeching her to wait. She suggested that she rule over both Day and Night, so that she could protect humanity for all time, and protect the one who held her heart, as well.

The Moon acquiesced, but inwardly raged with fury. Though the Sun’s heart was kind, she was proud and greedy, and sometimes cared far too much about expanding her empire.

So the Moon loved the Sun and held her and sang her to sleep. Yet when her chance came, she kissed her lover’s brow and  _struck._

She pulled a silver mirror from the sleeve of her silk robe and held it up to the the sleeping Sun Goddess’s face. The mirror captured the bright light deep within its surface and the shine woke the Sun who realized her lover’s betrayal. She readied herself to fight, but the Moon fled deep into her kingdom where the Sun couldn’t reach her.

The Sun’s wrath was immense, her fires scorching the earth. The place where she burned in her fury was left a sandy wasteland where nothing would ever grow. She gathered her armies in blinding gold and set them against the Kingdom of the Moon.

Across the ocean, the Moon readied her own troops, heart heavy at her treachery, but still full of righteousness for her cause. Why should the Sun be the only one who shone bright enough against the Darkness when the Moon was the elder? She was vain and beautiful, wanting the power for herself, but also for her children who cowered in her Night when the Darkness’s creatures preyed on the mortal world. 

The two armies clashed with the strength to shake the entire world. Heaven and Earth trembled from the force of their fury and their broken hearts. The Earth Gods, Celestials, and all the Immortal creatures of the earth were forced to choose sides, drawn into a war they never wanted with mortals caught between them. 

Cracks appeared in both Heaven and Earth, great ugly scars burned by magic and war. From these cracks, the Darkness slithered through, bleeding back into the world and settling in the hearts of mortals and gods alike.

After centuries of battle, the Celestial Gods fled back to the Heavens and sealed the gates to bar all further travel to save their Kingdom from destruction. They left the Earth Gods and the mortals bound on earth with no way to reach the fragile paradise among the stars. Only a handful of Celestials remained behind to watch over the mortals, but over the millennia, they vanished from the Earth and were never seen again.

For their role in the war, the Sun and the Moon were banished to the skies where they would be forced to guard the gates of Heaven for all eternity, a price they would have to pay in blood every thousand years to keep the balance.

Still, the war raged on between their Chosen. History twisted and darkened their tale. The Sun Kingdom believed only in the Moon’s treachery. The Moon Kingdom believed only in the Sun’s greed. Neither kingdom was ready for the resurgence of Darkness.

It spread from the North, claiming all in its path. The Sun fell first, to treachery and betrayal, and her heart broke anew as old wounds festered and burned. But when she pleaded for aid, the Moon turned a deaf ear. Eventually, her blood was destroyed, leaving them unable to pay the price of balance.

The Moon people clouded themselves in magical mists, thinking that the Darkness would be satisfied with the Sun Kingdom and that they would be safe protected by sea and air. The Darkness was not deterred, sending its monsters under the Moon’s own night to prey upon her people as the balance shifted and the world fell into chaos.


	8. Chapter 8

Shiro took deep calming breaths, letting the expansion of his chest ground him as cool air filled his nose and slid down his throat. With every exhale, he focused inwards, centering himself with the gravity of a stone. He honed his concentration, pulling it deeper and deeper, utilizing techniques he’d done countless times. An old friend greeted him, the stability that came at the start of meditation rearing her head. He moved his hand.

And Keith  _ooh’d_  awkwardly.

Shiro got ink all over his wrists.

“There are eighteen lines in one character, Keith. Eighteen,” Shiro hissed, eyes narrowed into slits. He’d studied calligraphy for years, with teachers who made him write and rewrite entire paragraphs if they weren’t satisfied with his work, and he couldn’t write  _Hail Her Sun_  in the Horde’s sharply angled text.

“You know those two aren’t supposed to be touching, right?” Keith asked, peering over his shoulders. Shiro flicked his brush at him. 

It was hard enough for Keith to find him parchment to work with, but now he was running out of ink. Keith huffed a laugh and plopped down behind him, wiggling into place until he could rest his legs on either side of Shiro’s body, his chest against Shiro’s back. He took Shiro’s hand and pressed a smile to the back of his nape, and teased, “Let me show you how it’s done.”

He’d have been more convincing if he could get his chin over Shiro’s shoulder.

It had been years since Shiro had felt so frustratingly incompetent, but at least Keith was short, which sweetened his failure. The Horde’s characters were complex and beautiful, each word running into the next with fluid strokes that were just as much art as the text itself. They were a reflection of the Sun people themselves, bold and striking without room for hesitation. For a novice, they were almost impossible.

Shiro laughed as Keith guiding him through the motions and dragging the tip of the brush daintily across the paper, a swordsman’s calloused strangely familiar with the elegant strokes of the brush. Even with Keith’s help, the characters were boxy and lopsided. “I guess I’m not going to end up being an artist.”

“That’s okay, you have other skills. You just need another few…years to study.” Keith leaned into Shiro, smiling into his shoulder. “Maybe we could have that someday. I’m saving up my money. A soldier’s salary is pretty low, but if we’re careful, I might be able to-, I mean, I could buy your freedom.”

There was a pause as Shiro froze, hope a dangerous and fragile thing in his chest.  _Freedom_. Keith was going to help him be free. It was too delicate to hold on to and he tucked it away, letting the moment pass and grinned mischievously, dabbing the brush on Keith’s nose.

“Hey!” The soldier yelled, wiping his nose and smearing the ink across his face.

“That’s a good look on you!” Shiro only wheezed, and he laughed harder still when Keith lunged at him, tussling him down to the ground. They wrestled as Keith rubbed his face against Shiro’s cheek, trying to spread the ink.

“I’m going to get you for that, you ass. Hold still, don’t make me get the brush!” When Shiro’s hands found his sides, Keith yelped and squirmed, “No noooo!”

A heavy pounding shook the door before it slid open. Chen burst into the room with his dagger drawn. “Keith! I’m here, are you okay?”

The pair froze guiltily, staring at the intruder who blinked back in shock before slowly lowering his weapon. He flushed in shame and resentment, looking away as Shiro and Keith sat up and wiped themselves clean.

“I bring news.” Chen said, smile pinched painfully in place. Though Keith’s expression was stern, he was almost too willing to accommodate him. There hadn’t been any more incidents after Shiro’s first lesson, and Keith thought he’d seen his self-appointed squire improve remarkably. Their brigade was always a source of gossip, but this time, there was a tinge of curiosity in the stories that followed them, not just malice. Keith had approved of two more transfer requests into his squadron. Most importantly, Galra soldiers had taken to giving him a wide berth. Things were finally changing for the better. He hoped Chen wasn’t going to change that.

“Of course. Is there a problem?” Keith murmured, adjusting his tunic with one final brisk sweep before turning to face his subordinate. 

“No, in fact. We should be celebrating.” Some of the excitement had returned to Chen’s smile, and he edged closer. Shiro wondered when he’d started disliking everything about Chen’s face, but Keith was getting impatient. Apparently they could both notice that. Chen spoke faster. “There was a notice. Our new assignment came in. We’re being stationed at the palace!”

“What?” Keith had gone still, his eyes wide with disbelief. 

“The palace! We’re being stationed with the royal guards! It worked! All our efforts, all  _your_  effort have finally paid off.” Chen grinned, and he couldn’t seem to stop himself from moving closer, reaching out for Keith like he was entranced. “This is the break we’ve been waiting for. We’ll be in the presence of the Emperor’s staff! If someone notices us there, the way they did here, it - Keith, can you imagine?”

Keith swallowed thickly. His mind was racing, but he still couldn’t seem to make sense of the news. A position in the palace,  _any_  position in the palace was meant to be a great honor. Yet the Sun Kingdom no longer had its royal family, and a monster sat on the throne.

“This is real?” He couldn’t believe their good fortune. A trip out of this camp where he could really perform. A position of trust among people with power that mattered. If he shone as one of the palace guards, he could be guaranteed a spot in a real battle someday. Better than that, he could be given a position of real authority.

Chen shook his shoulders with excitement. “This is all thanks to you, Keith. We’ve done it!”

“Have you told the rest of the men?” Keith asked quickly, but Chen just shook his head.

“I took the orders straight to you, I thought you would want to deliver the message yourself. Come on, Lieutenant!” He tugged on Keith’s arm and the soldier laughed.

“Alright. Shiro, I’ll be right back! This can’t wait.” He had a bright smile for Shiro before he swept out the door with Chen close at his heels. The squire paused in the doorway, looking back at the slave with a sneer.

“You can’t have him.” He whispered, a dark, wicked promise before sliding the door shut with a slam.

Shiro was left alone, confused by the sheer hate on Chen’s face and his stomach dropped to settle somewhere in his feet. This was good fortune laced with poison, the perfect gift dropped right in Keith’s lap. He hadn’t realized yet, why would he when he was so excited that all of his dreams were finally coming true. There was nothing that meant more to Keith than proving himself.

But there was no way they would allow a Moon Kingdom slave into the palace. Keith’s future was just beginning, but all of Shiro’s hope had been dashed in a moment.

Shiro didn’t know how long he sat there. The worst part was knowing he was too scared for anger. There was so little he could do, but his time with Keith had fed him an illusion of control. As it unraveled under his feet, Shiro was left floundering. He didn’t know what he was going to do next or where he was going to go, but he knew that if Sendak put his hands on him again, Shiro wouldn’t survive.

He flinched when the door was unlocked, and started to berate himself for it, but Keith came in, wearing an expression of such open concern that Shiro couldn’t feel ashamed.

“Hey…”

The lieutenant was more subdued now, and dread burned in the pit of Shiro’s belly. He didn’t help as Keith set out a pot of tea, but he watched the younger soldier move with almost sickening fascination. He was losing this, too. 

Keith knelt in front of him and cupped his cheek with a gentle hand. He drew his lover in, and Shiro went willingly, letting the other man wrap his arms around him, cradling him close. Sometimes Shiro was still surprised by how careful he could be. Keith treated him like he was made of glass, like he could shatter at any moment, and if Shiro was being honest, he almost felt like he could.

“I’m sorry, I was so excited, I didn’t think. We’re leaving in the morning.”

Shiro winced, screwing his eyes shut as heat burned behind them. He would find a way to keep going. He would have to. He just didn’t think it would be so hard.

“One month,” Keith hissed, and Shiro didn’t understand what he meant. “I just need, I’ll only need one month. I hate that I have to talk like this. I hate what they’re doing, but I.” The lieutenant inhaled sharply, before kissing Shiro’s soft, black hair. “A palace guard isn’t like any other soldier. Give me one month, just one month, and I’ll have enough to buy your freedom. I’m sorry Shiro. I’m sorry it needs to be  _bought,_ but I’m not going to give up.”

Shiro knew he should be ecstatic. He had worn chains for more than a year, and there wasn’t a day that had gone by where he hadn’t planned his escape or longed for freedom. Hope that he would one day return home kept him alive when he had been so close to giving up. Keith was offering him the way out he’d been looking for after so long. One month and he would be  _free_.

One month without Keith, and Sendak circling like a shark. One month and then he would never see Keith again. Getting his life back shouldn’t have tasted so bitter.

“Say something.” Keith said gently and Shiro wrapped his arms around the other man, leaning down to tuck his face against Keith’s neck. He was solid and warm as always, gentle in all the ways Shiro had needed. He had found love in hell knowing that he’d have to give it up someday, he just never expected it to hurt so much.

“If you can free me, then what?”

“I don’t know! We can get some place outside of the palace walls. Other soldiers have families, we can make it work.” Hope threaded through each and every word, thin and frayed as silk. Even as Keith said it, he knew how foolishly naive he sounded with childish dreams of a happily ever after. “We can do this.”

“And what about my home? They took me away from my life, Keith. I have to get back, I can’t stay in the Sun Kingdom.” Shiro said softly. A refugee among enemies, turning his back on his people in favor of the ones who had murdered his friends, slapped him in spelled iron, and abused him. The thought made him sick and every part of him ached for the quiet mountains and tranquility of home.

“They don’t have to know you’re a gwailo. I-I don’t want to lose you.”

“Would you go with me?” Shiro tipped Keith’s head up to look at him. “If I went to the Moon Kingdom, would you come, too? I could make sure you’re safe, no one would ever hurt you. You could even serve in the army if you still wanted to be a soldier, but we’d be away from this place and the Galra.”

Keith shook his head, confused by the offer. He’d never considered any other life but this, the Sun Kingdom was a part of who he was and nothing else made sense. “I couldn’t…”

“If you knew I was going to leave, would you still try and free me?"

Shiro knew he was watching Keith’s heart break. Keith was always too honest, if you just knew how to look. He was as quick to anger as he was to laugh, moving between feelings so quickly Shiro sometimes wondered if he even knew how he felt. But he was honest, and noble, and one of the bravest people Shiro had ever known.

“Yes.”

There were tears on Keith’s lashes. Shiro wiped them away with his thumb as he urged his lover closer. It was a kiss that meant too much, one that hurt almost as much as it healed, and Shiro didn’t know if he was strong enough to give it up.

When they pulled away, Shiro was breathing hard, shaking and overwhelmed. He didn’t know how he could miss someone while Keith was still in his arms. “You’re here for one more night,” Shiro whispered, as he peppered kisses across Keith’s cheeks, on his brow, on the tip of his nose and the cleft of his chin. He wanted to keep this moment, to remember it as deeply as he did his oaths to the Lady. “Let me have you for that long.”

They were frantic and desperate, and slow and sweet. They couldn’t get enough of each other, burning promises into flesh that neither could keep. They made love through the night, terrified by time but too stubborn to let go. Shiro had never thought himself possessive, but he left marks across Keith’s skin, painting his brand across his chest and throat, his thighs and back. Every time Keith moved, he wanted Keith to remember him as reverently as he did when he cried out Shiro’s name. The prince sent desperate prayers to his Lady Goddess, asking Her kingdom to last forever. He’d served Her for his entire life, and all he wanted was this one thing. 

This one, perfect thing.

In the morning, Shiro briefly stirred as Keith kissed his brow, but when he woke, Keith was gone.

There was nothing of his own to gather from the room as Shiro made his way back to the slave pens and joined the others on their morning exercises. Matt didn’t say a word as they stood together, offering silent support and hope that one day soon, they would find a way out.

 

* * *

 

Days passed with agonizing slowness, and Shiro found himself so distracted, that his sparring partner was able to land a few bruising blows with the wooden trident they’d been drilling with. The Arena master was displeased, threatening to have Shiro beaten unless he focused, but it was difficult to think of anything else beyond the walls. Home was so close he could taste it. Keith was going to save him.

At night as he curled on the thin pallet in the slave pens, the doubts crept in. How would he be able to save the other slaves? He couldn’t leave Matt or his people behind. Would Keith ever agree to run with him to the Moon Kingdom? Would they have to face each other as enemies someday? What if Keith had forgotten his promise and never came back? He closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer to his Lady for guidance, but the moon was dark and no answer came.

Deliverance came unexpectedly and not from the one Shiro had been hoping for.

A hand closed around his collar, yanking Shiro out of sleep and up to his feet. The spell etched in the metal flared before he had a chance to defend himself, wringing every ounce of pain from his body before letting him slump against his captor.

“I’ve missed our little private time together, Champion.” Sendak purred, cupping Shiro’s chin and forcing his head up. “But it looks like you weren’t even a good enough fuck to keep your master happy, so you’re fair game. Just in time too, I have a very special task for you. You’re going to be the main attraction.”

Bleak understanding ripped across Shiro’s face, and it twisted into unimaginable horror. He’d told himself he’d only have to wait a month; he told himself he could play smart and think hard. He wasn’t thinking of anything right now.

Shiro moved like lightning. His muscles throbbed and his bones creaked, but he pushed himself faster, further. Sendak was expecting retaliation, but he wasn’t expecting Shiro to fight with all the ferocity of the Horde. He wasn’t expecting to fight a man with the force of a sword and the stealth of a dagger.

The commander backed away with a snarl, but Shiro had taken off running. He tore through the tent, blind panic spurring him on. He got as far as the exit, hand outstretched to push through the heavy cloth that blocked his path when surges of heat tore across his limbs. He screamed as he fell, white hot pain scorching through to his bones. In the distance, he saw a flash of gold, but then the Galra were on him, kicking and beating him into the dirt. There was no way to fight back. The only escape was the cold embrace of sleep.

 

* * *

 

Of all the places Shiro expected to wake, the back of a steel cart wasn’t one of them. It was reinforced both inside and out, and he shared the space with six other prisoners that he’d never seen before. The shackles around their ankles were linked with chains. The way their cart jostled told Shiro they were on a paved road, and slowly, he inched towards the small opening at the end of the cart’s wall. It was blocked with bars, but Shiro could see the bright sky of day. 

The prince strained against his shackles, rising as far as he could without bothering the closest prisoner’s chains, and to his surprise, he caught a glimpse of clear blue water as far as the eye could see. He would have thought they were by the ocean, if not for the sharp absence of salty air.

All at once, the cart came to a halt that jostled its passengers to attention. Shiro wasn’t the only one craning to see where they were, but he was the first to gasp out loud. They’d stopped at a building so tall that Shiro swore it touched the Heavens, made of scoured stone and adorned with gold. There was an ornate statue of a powerful war hawk that guarded it, and even if he was from the Kingdom of the Moon, he recognized the Golden Empress’s chosen form. Their cart started moving again, but Shiro couldn’t tear his eyes away from the window.

The city was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Golden tiled roofs sloped into sharp points and stretched out in every direction, broken by enormous temples rising high above the other buildings. Low and winding streets spiraled out in every direction, curling around serene gardens with jeweled ponds. There must not have been any gold left in the world because everything shone, gleams catching the light even in the poorest neighborhoods.

It was then that he realized the pattern, cutting through the lines of the city and its streets, their symbol standing for everything they were. The entire city was built along the rays of the sun. Shiro gawked as the wagon slowly rumbled through crowded ramshackle neighborhoods where the poor crowded in houses built on top of each other in the outer ring of the city. Closer in, the streets widened, little bridges crossing gurgling streams and dotted with stone traveler gods. Bustling markets teemed with more people than he’d ever seen in his life, speaking in a dozen different tongues in bright foreign clothes. The smell of spiced meat made his stomach growl painfully.

A small line of monks from some distant land passed by, burning a trail of incense and stepping to the sound of bells. A stall sang with tiny iridescent birds that fluttered and chirruped in elaborate wooden cages. For a moment, Shiro forgot to be afraid in his awe.

The cart rolled through an enormous gate which slowly swung closed behind them, cutting him off from the city. They stopped in an echoing antechamber and their Galra escort snapped to attention as Commander Sendak approached with a smile. “Welcome to the Arena of Divine Light.”

The prisoners were pulled one by one from their seats and forced into a straight line. Behind Sendak were more Galran soldiers, their fur-lined uniforms decorated in the way of senior Horde officers, but even Shiro could tell they were more disciplined than their counterparts by the Garrison. For once, Shiro did not command the most of his guardians’ attention. They eyed the slaves warily, all except Sendak whose gaze lingered over the prince’s frame. Shiro continued staring straight ahead.

The Commander walked down the line, examining each slave in turn but never shifting his steady pace.

“From every corner of the known world, you have been selected for the honor of performing for great Emperor Zarkon and his esteemed guests. Your lives will depend on the quality of your performances. Prove today that even the most worthless dog can earn its survival.” He stopped in front of Shiro, smiling with too sharp teeth. Shiro wished he could have hurt him, just once, just enough to leave his mark. “And if you’re lucky… You will have a chance to see old friends.”

Shiro couldn’t help himself. His eyes widened with terrible curiosity and too much hope. Before his heart could take flight, their procession was yanked forward and lead by the chain through the Arena. More of the Horde’ s majesty survived here, from the intricate cravings along the ceiling to the ornate light fixtures that were twisted like the rays of the sun. But even the glory of the Golden Empress could not shake the weight of Sendak’s eyes on him.

The slaves were lead to a large hall and separated in its different corners. Their chains were connected to the walls of their station, and servants came in with food and water. The treatment was almost regal compared to what they were used to, but the prisoners didn’t celebrate.

They waited.

One by one they were taken from the hall. Only once were two slaves chosen at the same time. The hall seemed bigger with every absence, until Shiro was left with a broad-shouldered man with golden skin and a broken nose. He was deathly still when the guards arrived, but Shiro felt tension crackle through the air. When the slave attacked, Shiro pulled valiantly on his chains, silently cheering him on. He took down four armed soldiers with their own swords before his shackles came to life, and he was left writhing on the ground. Then Shiro watched in horror as one of the guards leapt forward and stabbed him in the thigh.

“NO!”

They pulled him to his feet and walked him out the same gate they’d taken the rest of their party. One by one Shiro had watched them walk into the Arena. He never had a chance with a wound like that.

No matter how long he waited, he knew none would return.

Eventually, they came for him and Shiro didn’t resist as they hooked a leash onto his collar and pulled him towards the door. If he had any hope of survival, he didn’t want to give them any reason to injure him before he got up to the arena or he really would end up some monster’s dinner. He did his best to focus on his breathing to center himself for the fight to come. The others might not have made it, but he was going to win.

The Galra guards stopped in front of a table covered in weapons, some still stained in blood. Sendak was waiting for him with a smile, gesturing to the display. “You get to choose this time, Champion. Anything you want, just make sure you choose wisely.”

Shiro couldn’t look at him, fixing his eyes to the table and the assortments of blades, spears, and blunt maces. They were real weapons, designed to kill, and that only worried him. His hand hovered over a long sword, trying to decide if this was some sort of trap or test. If he picked wrong, would he be punished or would it give something away? Whatever battle waited for him, he needed every advantage and he picked up the wickedly curved hand scythe, its long chain dragging across the table. Sendak raised his eyebrows at the choice and didn’t comment.

He moved around the table and the captive stared stubbornly straight ahead until the Sendak cupped Shiro’s neck and rubbed his thumb along his jaw. “I hope you survive this, Champion. Vrepit Sa.” He leaned forward and kissed Shiro deeply, tongue slipping between his lips and stealing the breath from his lungs. When he pulled away, Shiro had frozen in shock, body locking in rigid terror. Sendak gestured and the other Galra dragged him up to the arena, kicking him out to the sand, still frozen in his own remembered nightmares.

 

* * *

 

Not even in Keith’s wildest dreams had he imagined that he would be here, not as a warrior nor as a guest. There were perks to his new job that he’d never expected. This should have been one of them.

If Keith thought the Garrison’s former chambers were extravagant, he didn’t have words adequate enough to describe being in the Arena of Divine Light. He knew its history; it used to be a station of the Garrison that trained only the most elite  _of elite_  warriors for service to the royal family. It was smaller than the Garrison’s main headquarters, but it glittered with all the Empire’s wealth and culture. Even the banisters in the stands held stories, carved out to show the journey of the Golden Empress from hawk to Goddess and back again, sometimes with a dying owl between Her beak.  

This was one of the places he wished he could make Shiro see, to prove that they had been something more than the degenerates their invaders had turned them into. Maybe that way, he could convince him to stay. Even if Shiro wouldn’t, well, Keith almost had enough gold to get him anywhere he wanted. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to just let go.

And yet now that he was here, he almost wished he had never came.

Like the Garrison before it, the Arena of Divine Light had been perverted into a slaughterhouse. Keith watched with growing horror as fighter after fighter was brought into the Arena to fight beasts beyond his wildest imagination. The fighting ring lacked the wear and tear of the Garrison, a sign that this entire atrocity was considered a treat.

Emperor Zarkon himself was in attendance, or at least, Keith assumed he was. He couldn’t see into the spectator box that hung high over the rest of the Arena. It was covered in heavy gilded drapes, but just outside the shimmering curtains, he thought he saw what could only be a giant crow, if crows grew to the size of humans.

A powerful drum beat over the crowd, signaling the next fighter, and despite his disgust, Keith found himself looking towards the ring. What he saw made his stomach plummet. Stumbling out onto the sand was a broad shouldered warrior. This far, Keith couldn’t make out his face, but he held a chained scythe. 

There was no doubt in Keith’s mind which slave had been chosen.

Something was wrong with Shiro, Keith could see it from here. Something had rattled him and he seemed lost as the crowd cheered around him, staring blankly up into the stands. “No.” Keith whispered the word to himself, but it didn’t go unnoticed as Chen leaned in against him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” His oldest friend promised.  

Keith jerked away, eyes wide in panic. “It’s Shiro! I have to get down there. They’re going to kill him!”

The other soldier held him steady, his arm too heavy around Keith’s waist, and Keith almost punched him. “Keith, wait! Think about what you’re doing. If you intervene, they’ll only execute both of you.” The lieutenant turned away, watching the scene with helpless anger, and he didn’t see the cruel smile that hardened Chen’s face. “Besides, you said it yourself, he’s the better fighter, right? If there’s anyone who can trick his way out of this, it’s that gwailo.”

An inhuman roar rattled the entire arena and Keith froze as the gates were opened, a giant beast slithering out into the sand. The giant serpent coiled into itself, the translucent membranes of two fin-like wings flapping for balance. One pair spread proudly like a hunting bird’s, but in the soft grey of ash, while the second, smaller pair fluttered faster. It opened its fanged maw to roar again, blood red tongue flicking angrily at its long whiskers. Shiro barely seemed to register the creature, and Keith ignored Chen, leaning over the rail of their spectator’s box as if he could reach out to the man below.

“Come on Shiro, snap out of it!”

There was no chance anyone could hear him over the cheering crowd, but for one brief moment, Shiro moved as a flower would to greet the sun. He turned his back on a monster that looked large enough to swallow the moon, distant eyes finding his partner in the crowd. The beast charged and Keith shrieked. 

Shiro dodged just in the nick of time, rolling out of the monster’s path, only to catch its sleek tail in the back. Sharp scales tore against his flesh, ripping bloody ribbons across his flank. The great snake slithered across the ground, roaring for all to hear.

And the crowd roared with it. 

Shiro shook himself, pulling himself back to his feet and started rolling the end of his weapon, drawing the creature’s gaze and earning its ire as the heavy chain swung round and round. It circled Shiro, closing in on him slowly, a dance that grew ever more deadly. The world came to a halt around predator and prey; in that instant they were both and neither. Then they lunged. 

As the beast moved to clamp its mighty fangs over the warrior’s throat, Shiro let fly the end of his chain, slamming its heavy anchor into one bright eye. He charged at the same time, by burying his scythe in the monster’s scaled throat and climbing unto its back. 

The serpent writhed, trying to throw Shiro free, but he clung to the creature’s scales with all his might. He stabbed his scythe in deeply for balance as he hauled himself up, trying to avoid the whip sharp tail that battered against him. As the beast reared back, Shiro struck and sliced through thick hide and armored scales down its neck. Hot blood gushed over him, blistering his skin as he dropped back down to the sand.

Around them, the spectators stamped their feet and cheered, more for the snake than the man standing against it. Shiro moved like water, dancing on the balls of his feet as he swung and leapt, and Keith was shocked to see the aggressive Sun techniques blended into his attacks. He was an acrobat and a warrior, every form flowing into the next as he swung the chain around his head. He struck with the weighted anchor, snapping it back to slice with the blade, everything in perfect harmony. It was clear this was his weapon and he used it as if it were a part of himself.

Shiro drove the beast back raising his arm to strike, but the serpent was lightning fast and it closed its gaping mouth on Shiro’s arm, swallowing it and his weapon whole.

“NO! NOOOOO!” Keith screamed as the slave staggered back, his side a mass of blood. Shiro fell to his knees with a strangled cry, cradling the ruined stump of his arm. The serpent slithered closer, its wings flared and ready to attack and all Keith could do was watch helplessly as Shiro met his end.

Darkness swept across the sun and the crowd’s feverish cheering died away into muttered unease as they looked up towards the sky. An icy wind swept through the arena as lines of silver fire dripped down Shiro’s skin and flared against the sand. His body seemed to glow as he slowly pulled himself up to his feet, the energy crackling in the unnatural silence that seemed to swallow every sound. Magic stormed around Shiro, his eyes bleeding an empty black as he faced down the serpent. Ghostly armor shimmered around him in silvery white light with the bright crescent moon adorning his helm.

Keith went pale, ripping his eyes away from the inhuman warrior and up to the stands where the Emperor himself had pulled back the curtains of his box to watch the sight below. Even from so far away, he could see Emperor Zarkon’s lips move into one impossible name. 

“ _Shirogane_.”

A hush fell over the crowd, like they’d been replaced by the spirits themselves. All that mattered was the Crown Prince and the demon that dared stand against him. Weaponless and injured, he raised his hand, the very air crackling with his power. It was over in a second. 

A flash of lightning tore through the Arena, as if the White Lady had come down from Her prison among the stars. It tore the serpent apart before it could even recoil. Then he turned to the Emperor. 

Crackling magic shot up towards the Emperor’s box, but a dark blur moved to protect him, defecting the blast with a deafening boom. Wind whipped the black feathers of the druid’s heavy cloak as she smiled behind her crow mask. The most powerful and deadly of all the Galra druids.  _Haggar._ With an unspoken command, she leapt from the box, feet barely touching the ground as she flew down to the arena sands to face off against the Moon Prince.

Darkness flowed from other corners of the arena, the other druids joining their mistress to surround their prey. They linked their strength, deep violet lighting each spine of the feathers they wore as they raised their voices in a chat to weave a trap around the Prince.

Shiro seemed unfazed, winding the silver power around his one wrist before snapping it out like a whip. 

Haggar caught the energy with one hand, sending her own dark lightning crackling along its light and feeding it back into Shiro until he cried out in pain. She yanked the whip from his hand, lashing across his face so deeply that the prince choked on blood. Their energies collided with an Earth-shattering crack. Keith didn’t know he was screaming until his throat throbbed, mere mortals humbled by the impossible.

A thick smoke filled the Arena, choking the life out of it with the bitter sulfur of a crueler place. When it cleared, there was blood on the sand, but the Druids had left with their prize.


	9. Chapter 9

“I want another bun!” The young Galra boy whined, kicking angrily at the seat in front of him. “Ganbaatar got  _three_  of them and his father is just a secondary minister. It’s not fair!” He was gearing up for another meltdown and Keith didn’t know if he could take it again. It took more willpower than he possessed to be able to hold his tongue.

A guard position at the palace. Fame and accolades, a chance to prove himself out from under Sendak and make his mark so he could finally be sent out to a real battle. This was the next step towards being the warrior he always strove to be. 

Instead, he’d turned out to be a babysitter.

The brat was a spoiled noble’s son, about ten years old and already a terror. He was selfish and cruel for the fun of it, and Keith’s brigade was tasked with keeping him safe. The most prominent thing Keith had gained from this experience was the realization that he hated children now as much as he had when he was one. Had anyone had asked him, Keith thought it might have been for the best if someone did take the little brat out. If someone tried, Keith knew he might be ‘too distracted’ to stop it now.

He kept seeing Shiro, stained red with blood and glowing with power, tearing apart the winged serpent with one hand like some kind of mortal god. No, not his Shiro. Prince Takashi Shirogane of the Moon Kingdom. His name was whispered in every hallway ever since the fight at the arena, but no one had seen him since the Druids had taken him away. It had been more than two months, and there was nothing but rumors and gossip left behind.

Keith had spent months falling in love with one of the most powerful people in the known world, while he was trapped in a tiny, dingy room. Looking back, Keith never knew if he felt more ashamed or more horrified. He’d promised freedom to a warrior who could take him apart in a blink. Shiro called himself a  _priest,_ and Keith believed him. What was worse, he told Keith that he cared about him, and Keith believed him. He still believed him. 

Now that the sun was beginning to set, he was going to do something about it.

“Where’re you going?” Chen asked, before Keith could take more than ten steps past his post. It wasn’t the first time he’d disappeared in the last two months, but he couldn’t say he cared who knew. Keith didn’t think his responsibilities had ever meant less to him. “Keith!”

The lieutenant kept walking past the manicured gardens of their charge’s home, not even trying to disguise his truancy anymore. The message should have been clear enough. It never was for Chen.

“Keith wait!”

His subordinate caught up with him by the gate, grabbing Keith by the shoulder, and Keith hissed in pain. For a moment, his coat clasp seemed to glow in the fading day light. Then Keith wrenched himself out of his friend’s grip, and it stopped. The pain returned, and Chen’s focus narrowed with every wince Keith couldn’t disguise.

“You did it again, didn’t you,” Chen frowned, leaning in like he could examine Keith’s injury through his plated armor. “You tried to break into the palace. Keith…” His voice broke, terribly beseeching as he pleaded. “That’s _treason._ You’re going to get caught.”

“Doesn’t it bother you at all?” Keith refused to admit his own guilt even though it was written across his face. “You’ve heard what the Druids do to people. You think it’s right?”

Chen looked around to see if anyone had heard Keith’s outburst and whispered. “What are you saying? You can’t talk like that! Who cares about Shirogane. Whatever happens to him is his own fault anyway. The Druids are going to make sure he can’t hurt anyone else, you need to leave it alone before you get hurt too. He’s gone.”

“He could still be alive! I’m not giving up yet.”

“He lied to you!” Chen shook Keith, trying to get his friend to see sense, and a wave of dizziness nearly made Keith crumble. “He manipulated you, he probably bewitched you with his magic into betraying your own people.”

That wasn’t true, Keith could never imagine Shiro plying him with magic spells and whispered curses. What they’d felt was real, it had to be. He’d never been in love before and it had grown so slowly that he didn’t even notice until it had been too late. There was nothing sinister about the way Shiro would smile or the way they slept curled together on one bed. There was no way that Shiro could have faked the fear and nightmares that sent him bolting upright in the middle of the night, shaking and streaked in sweat until Keith calmed him with gentle words and soothing hands. It wasn’t magic how Shiro had made Keith laugh, offering to teach him things because he wanted to help and nothing more.

If he could have used that magic to escape earlier, Keith had no doubt that Shiro would have. Maybe it was the pain of losing an arm that had released it. Shiro had just been trying to survive like he’d been doing since he first arrived in the Garrison. Chen saw an enemy, but only because he didn’t know the real Shiro. “I wasn’t manipulated. I care about him and I’m not abandoning him. If it was you in there, I wouldn’t leave you either.”

Something spread across Chen’s face, liquid quick and fox-sly. Keith had to stop himself from recoiling, but the moment passed, and his oldest friend looked at him with concern so thick, it could suffocate. “I wouldn’t ask you to give up your life for me. I wouldn’t damn you to chase after my ghost.”

He moved closer, putting an arm on Keith’s elbow before drawing his lieutenant in. They were too public for a display like this, but Chen wasn’t stopping. His expression softened as he traced the place beneath Keith’s shoulder, as if he knew exactly where the angry bruise hid beneath his armor. He didn’t appear to know about anything else. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself because of me. You’re tearing yourself apart, Keith. How many nights have you hunted him? How many nights have you danced with death?”

Keith looked away, pointedly aware of the hollow circles under his eyes, and throbbing aches that his lieutenant’s clasp could not always soothe.

“Let me take care of you.”

“Chen, I-” But Chen was gentle, and Keith had never wanted to hurt him.

“I am your most loyal squire. I gave you everything we’ve dreamed of since we were cadets, I did it all for you. Keith, just let me have this one thing and let him go.”

It felt like ice in Keith’s veins. He shivered in the early evening, and for one moment, Keith couldn’t breathe. “You  _what?_ What do you mean you did it all?”

Realization struck like an arrow to the skull. The transfer, the promotion, Chen must have orchestrated it all. Anything to get him away from Shiro. It had been a set up and he’d been so eager to grasp his dream that he’d never even known it was a trap.

“I love you, Keith. He’s a monster, we’ve been fighting his kind since the beginning of time and I wasn’t going to let him ruin you. You’re too important.” Chen reached out to cup his cheek, but Keith slapped his hand away and punched him in the jaw so hard that bone crunched under his knuckles. Betrayal stung like bitter poison. Everything was tainted now. His friend had turned on him, his promotion was a sham orchestrated by his enemies to manipulate him, and the one person who ever really cared about him was gone, and it was all Keith’s fault. Shiro had ended up in the arena because of Chen. Because of him.

Chen went down hard. It didn’t matter that his ribs pulsed with pain or his arms trembled. Keith still had to stop himself from beating him until he couldn’t move. “We’re done. I should have killed you.”

“Keith, please! You can’t walk away from everything.”

“Fucking watch me.” Keith tore the gold pin from his shoulder and threw it at Chen. It pinged to the floor, glimmering slightly in the light as it rolled to a stop by the fallen soldier. Keith turned his back on Chen and on his life.

 

* * *

 

The little room Keith rented by the docks was full of coal smoke and smelled like old fish and the dank water of the harbor that rolled in through the windows. He had left everything behind, his armor, his weapons. They’d all belonged to the army, and he was nothing better than a deserter. He would have been hunted down for his treason if the Galra hadn’t already been so happy to see him leave.

He shucked off his shirt and threw it on the flea-infested mat that served as a bed, tenderly touching the tightly wrapped bandages around his middle. Blood soaked through the cloth, tacky and wet.

The royal palace was the most well-guarded site in the entire kingdom, and Keith was paying the price for challenging it.

Called the Empress’s Heart, it stood in the center of the capital. Most citizens never got the chance to see the magnificent palace, but its legends spread beyond even the furthest rays of the great city. A large stone wall blocked it from view, guarded by turrets with golden roofs that sloped like pyramids. A long, winding river surrounded it, so deep and so wide that it was thought the Golden Empress had dug it herself. Mighty bridges of cobbled stone connected the palace to the rest of the city. In times of war, they would be blown apart, rather than allow enemy armies to step into the Empress’s most sacred grounds.

Unfortunately, the Galra hadn’t brought armies to invade the Sun Kingdom. They would have lost a fair fight.

The harbors that fed the Empress’s Heart were fortresses in their own right, but they wound through the seedier ports that were located at the very fringes of the city’s limits. Keith had spent his days learning and mapping their secrets, and he thought he had the key to breaking into the palace.

First he would redress his wounds. Nowadays everything hurt. He lived in a strange sort of purgatory, torn between an ever approaching deadline and an eternal holiday. Sometimes he lost entire days, succumbing to his injuries and exhaustion, but every time he felt guilty. Because Shiro had to be waiting for him. Shiro had to still be alive.

Tonight, Keith had a boat to catch. 

He stowed aboard a coal barge that bypassed the royal harbors, and waited for his chance to creep out onto the ledge of the great wall. It was the easiest part.

Keith wrapped silk around his face and pulled his hood up over his head, whirling a metal hook over his head before flinging it up over the wall. It hooked with skilled precision and Keith scaled the smooth brick, dropping down lightly on his toes on the other side. He didn’t even pause, dashing along the shadow of the wall through the courtyard. He only stopped in one round doorway, pressing himself back against the wood as a pair of soldiers marched by on patrol.

He held his breath and counted, running through all the moving pieces of the Palace’s security. They moved like clockwork, only the smallest gaps in their rounds for him to slip through, but they were complacent. Who would ever be stupid enough to strike right at the stronghold of the Sun Kingdom?

As soon as the guards passed, he vaulted up the low arch and raced across the slippery tiles from one building to the next. The Palace was enormous, almost its own city within the capital. The nobles rarely left its walls if ever, locked away from the commoners. Even back in the golden days before the Galra came, the elite still found ways to separate themselves.

Overhead, he could see the pattern of the palace’s layout. The streets were carved in concentric rings, artfully cut by shallow streams and peaceful gardens into the rays of the sun. Not unlike the city beyond its walls.

There was no way to tell where they’d taken Shiro and not enough time to search every building. Keith had narrowed his search to the largest temple in the middle of the grounds. If the Druids really did practice some kind of corrupt magic, then they would choose the very center of his Goddess’s power.

The Temple of Transcendent Light.

It was a monument to everything the Golden Empress ever stood for. Justice, honor, righteous battle in defense of the innocent, ironically tucked away for the benefit of those who needed it least. Yet there was something out of place in the palace. The closer Keith got to the Temple, the quieter it seemed. The moon bugs had ceased their singing. It was like the very breeze had held its breath, though what it waited for, Keith didn’t know.

He made his approach on the roofs of homes that once belonged to politicians and war heroes. Now they were only occupied by invaders. Maybe that was why it had been so easy to turn away from his world. Recklessness aside, he’d spent so long wanting to prove his worth to the Goddess, but by serving the Galra, he’d only hurt Her.

The entire palace had been designed to mimic the Temple.

The Temple of Transcendent Light was surrounded by flowing water and connected to the Empress’s Heart by two small bridges on the east and west. It was a circular building, two stories high with pointed roofs around every floor. No one stopped him when he vaulted over the terrace railings. He landed on smooth marble that was cold even through the soles of his shoes, and for a moment, Keith considered removing them in respect to his host. Instead, he sent a quiet prayer to the Empress, and hoped She would forgive his transgression.

There was no place to hide, but there was no one watching him. Closer to the temple, the ground split into artfully designed canals that swirled and twisted like solar flares. They were covered in moss and leaves now, despondent in neglect. Paranoia kept Keith going. He trusted none of the shadows that marked his path, until he reached the main hall of the Temple. What he saw brought him to his knees.

The Golden Throne of the Empress stood twenty feet higher than any mortal man, carved of precious stone and marble. So regal it was that not even the royal family had dared take Her place. An intricate shrine to the Golden Empress was surrounded by a hunting party of hawks picked out in gold. It had once been the most holy site in the entire kingdom, now it was left to rot. Melted wax spilled across Her floors, smudged with the ash of incense long gone. Holy scrolls lay in tatters at Her feet, the rest of them had been stolen away by the wind. The Golden Empress was chipped and damaged, her hunters battered and stolen. All the priests who would have taken care of Her were long gone. Keith felt like he’d been gutted.

At the foot of the throne, a single candle burned low, casting flickering shadows against the gold. At least there was one person in the palace who still believed. He needed to focus on his mission, but it was with a heavy heart that Keith turned his back on the Empress. There wasn’t any signs of the Druids here, the temple looked too dusty to have any regular use. 

He’d been wrong. Keith bit back a bitter snarl and sighed.  _Okay_ , there was still a little time to explore the grounds before he’d have to flee back over the wall. If he was careful, maybe there’d be another way. 

He started down the closest corridor and paused.

There was  _something_  here, he couldn’t quite explain how he knew, but he could feel it. Some kind of energy pulling at him and leading him back to the center of the temple. He frowned, circling the carved stone spiral in the floor. He knelt and put his hand to the floor, pushing against the stones like they were hollow and he could break through, but they were solid under his touch.

Something snaked across the floor, slithering and sparking with energy. It crackled like living lightning before it wrapped itself around Keith’s wrist and sent pain screaming through his veins. His entire body seized, head smacking against the stone as violet light wrapped itself around him in a stranglehold. A loud bell boomed, announcing his presence as Keith fought to remain conscious. His teeth bit down on his tongue hard enough to fill his mouth with blood.

“In here!”

Voices shouted nearby and Keith rolled, dragging his body across the temple floor until he broke the edge of the spell trap. The Galra energy died away, melting back into the floor as Keith struggled to just breathe. Footsteps echoed on the flagstones and Keith dug his hands into a wooden pillar to pull himself upright, flinging himself out onto the terrace and running blindly. The patterns were in chaos, guards were flooding into the courtyard. There was no way he could escape now, he had to hide and wait until the danger passed.

He wheezed in pain, hitting the ground hard as his legs collapsed out from under him. He wasn’t far enough away and there was nowhere to hide in the little garden with its tiny koi pond and delicate flowers set between white scholar’s stones.

Suddenly a shadow passed over him, and terror tore through Keith’s nerves. This was it. This was the end!

He turned on his back, ready to go down fighting and froze.

She was beautiful, with moonlight in her white hair and starlight in her eyes. She stood over him with long flowing robes of the most exquisite silk that seemed to float in the wind. She had smooth dark skin that pinched around the corners of her full mouth when she smiled. “The White Lady…”

The last thing Keith saw was her hands glowing in spun silver before sleep claimed him.

 

* * *

 

When Keith woke, everything hurt and smelled vaguely of fish.

He groaned and tried to turn over, only for the wet cloth on his brow to drop to the unwashed floor of his room. He grimaced.

“Don’t move yet. Your body is still recovering.”

Keith inhale sharply before he jerked so violently, his back slammed against the wall. Sitting on the floor with both her legs tucked underneath her was the woman from the garden. In the dim light of his room, she looked like a piece of stolen artwork, except Keith didn’t think statues were supposed to smile so slyly.

“You, you’re the-!”

“The White Lady? Thank you, but I’m not that old.”

There was laughter in her voice, and she spoke with a lilting accent that reminded him vaguely of Shiro, but only because they were both outsiders and spoke Keith’s mother tongue with elongated syllables.

She had to have been one of the concubines, her face painted in shimmering colors with golden birds pinned to her hair that chimed softly as she moved. Keith didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so beautiful before and responded with all the eloquence and thoughtfulness that was expected by a true warrior. “Buh.”

She hid her smile behind her sleeve and touched his forehead. “You need to stay still while I draw the last of the energy from your body. Galra magic is like a corruption, it twists everything it touches.” Long gentle fingers swept down his body in fluid strokes, purple lights sparking through his skin. “There we go.”

The lingering ache disappeared from his joints and Keith felt like he had relearned how to breathe. He licked his lips once, twice, before whispering in a voice filled with awe, “Thank you.”

“It’s alright, though next time be a little bit more careful setting off one of the Druid’s traps. They’re designed to kill, you know.” She paused, reading the way Keith’s face immediately closed off. “I’m not going to save you just to turn you over to the guards. I could have left you out in the garden for them to find.”

“Are you one of them?” Keith asked suspiciously. She’d used magic, but she wasn’t one of the Galra even though she seemed to know a great deal about their powers.  

“No, but I’ve known them for a very long time. You can call me Allura.” For a moment, there was a flicker of emotion across her face, and Keith wondered just how much she hid behind her charming smile. “This place is not like I remember it.”

“Where’ve you been for the last 50 years?” Keith huffed, but he wasn’t expecting an answer. “What were you doing there?”

“Trying to find someone.” She watched him with a smile, but Keith couldn’t shake the feeling that she was evaluating him. Part of him wanted to shy away in defiance. Another part of him wanted so badly to impress her, and he couldn’t shake why. “Don’t give me that look, it’s obvious you were searching for something too. I was doing the same thing, just blending in a bit better.”

Annoyance flared in his gut, and Keith took that as a sign that he was healing. “How can I trust you?”

“Is there any answer that would convince you?” She asked in turn, but she didn’t look insulted. “For now, take comfort in knowing that we share an enemy. I could help you get through their defenses, but if this is all in the name of stealing coin, you’re on your own.”

“It’s not, it’s… He’s very important. Someone very important to me, and very important to a lot of people. They’ve had him for too long already, and if I don’t find him they’ll. They’ll…” The words tangled in his throat, twisting with Keith’s worst fears. He was painfully aware of how much time had passed, how long he’d failed. She rested her hand on his shoulder, and suddenly a rush of warmth coursed through Keith’s veins. For a moment, he was struck dumb. Keeping secrets was the only way to save Shiro and his own life, but if the way was guarded by Druid magic, he’d never get through. Shiro was worth the risk.

“Who is he?”

Maybe it was the compassion in her voice or the concern in her eyes, or the desperation of his hope, but Keith couldn’t stop himself from answering.

“Shiro. Takashi Shirogane the Prince of the Moon Kingdom.”

“ _No!”_

Allura clutched a fist to her chest, like she wanted to hold in her beating heart. Her expression clouded with all the power of a storm, and when she met Keith’s gaze, her eyes were like stone. “And who are you in all this? A member of the Golden Horde should have little to do with the Prince.”

Keith didn’t have an answer for her, not one that would satisfy, coming from a man living in what was little more than a cardboard box, a man she’d already caught committing treason.

“I love him.” He whispered. “I need to make sure he’s safe.”

Now she was the one with suspicion in her eyes and Keith could feel his hackles rise. It was bad enough that she doubted his honor, but how dare she doubt his heart.

“I was trying to get him out of here, I didn’t even know who he was until the arena. It’s my fault that he’s been taken and I’m getting him back, with or without your help.” He said fiercely, eyes narrowed into angry slits. Fear and doubt and guilt rushed in, crushing him down even as he met her eyes without flinching.

Allura watched him closely like she was reading his very soul. Finally, she nodded, coming to her decision. “Meet me at sundown tomorrow in the Green Monkey in Harbortown. I will help you find your friend.”

 

* * *

 

The Green Monkey was a broken down, dimly lit bar that smelled like algae, opium smoke, and unwashed sailors. Keith picked his way across the floor, making a face as his feet stuck to the wood. He almost looked before deciding that he didn’t want to know. The place was crowded and too warm, filled with heavily armed men and women who seemed more like criminals than simple fisher folk. Their clothes were crusted in salt, bare skin heavily tattooed, or worse, branded. Loud raucous laughter grated on his nerves, drowning out the discordant sounds of a young man bravely trying to pick out a tune on a stringed instrument in the corner.

How on earth had one of the Emperor’s concubines ever even known about a hole like this? 

If it hadn’t been clear before, it should have been clear now that she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever known.

“Hey there, hot stuff.” A rank voice slurred in his ear. “Haven’t seen you here before. I would have noticed, I’ve got great powers of observation.”

Keith stared coldly at the young man who slid into the chair across from him, skinny under his giant coat and almost lost beneath some ridiculously large feathered hat. His smile was bright against his tanned skin and was looking at Keith in a way that couldn’t be described as anything other than leering.

“Go away before I stab you in the face.” Keith said helpfully.

It did absolutely nothing to make the pirate go away.

“Oh I like them feisty.” He drawled, leaning across Keith’s table to tower over him, but his eyes widened the moment Keith came up to meet him, his hand on a short fishing dagger. He may have lost his weapons to the Galra, but he refused to be unarmed. 

“None of  _them_  like you.”

“Hey, hey easy now sweet cheeks, looks like we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Captain Lance, I’m sure you’ve heard of me. Now why don’t you put down that knife before you hurt yourself?”

“The only one I’m going to hurt is-”

“Enough!”

Both men jolted as a heavy fist slammed into their table. Allura looked less than impressed. That wasn’t the only reason Keith stared. Gone were the regal, billowing robe silks, replaced instead with sleek, finely made leather armor, hardened and lacquered a shiny black. Delicate shapes of flowers and stars decorated its surface and the longer he stared, the more the pictures shimmered with light that the dingy bar didn’t have, and something in his chest ached. Keith could have sworn that the stars were shining and the flowers actually blooming.

She swung herself into a chair and waved her hand over the table. Something shivered around them as ephemeral as a soap bubble, translucent and shimmering before it disappeared. The men around them looked away like their eyes were being drawn from the table and the commotion died into a distant unintelligible murmur. Keith looked around in shock, but the sailor looked completely unimpressed.

“What did you do? What is this?!” Keith let anger color his voice, tired of his own failure and of being jerked around by people way more powerful than he was.

“Hey baby, you wanna try a little of that magic with me?” Captain Lance waggled his eyebrows suggestively as Allura leveled a blank stare back at him.

“If you really want me to silence you.”

“Uh, no.” Lance backed down as his brilliant pick up line fell flat and went back to nursing his drink.

“I gave us a little privacy. Talking about treason is best done away from unknown ears, especially in a place like this.” The warrior woman said. “You do want to get your friend back, right?”

“But I don’t know you and I certainly don’t know  _him_.” Keith jerked his thumb at Lance. “I’m glad you saved my life, but I don’t know if I can trust either one of you. Even if you wanted to help, I don’t know what you really want. You’re not going to risk your lives to help my friend.”

Lance shrugged. “I’m not going to risk my life at all, I’m just getting a good paycheck.”

“The Captain is our escape plan and this is more than a rescue mission.” Allura explained gravely. “The false Emperor has been fighting a war far older than the disagreement of the Sun and Moon.” Keith sucked on his teeth, unsure if he should be insulted or not, but Allura ignored him. “I thought I had more time, but they’ve already captured the Scion of the Moon. This has been in the works for centuries, and now I wake on the eve of the greatest battle with no time to spare.”

The pirate spoke up abruptly, syllables sharp and biting as if his mouth had changed around them. “There were supposed to be defenses against -”

“Gone. All gone,” Allura whispered, her shoulders slumping unhappily. “Captain Lance, when you were younger, you could recognize a worthy cause. I’d hate to know that wisdom has gone to waste.”

The pirate had gone still, but Keith didn’t care. She’d dropped… a lot on them. A lot to think about. A lot that did not make sense, but it hadn’t been enough to knock Keith off course.

“This sounds like a big deal.” He said evenly, because she was either out of her mind or telling the truth, and he didn’t know which one was worse. “But I care about  _Shiro,_  and Shiro getting out. He’s the most important one in all of this.”

To his surprise, Allura turned to him with a kind smile, and Keith was struck dumb with the compassion in it. “Yes, he is, and we will do everything in our power to rescue him… Won’t we?”

Lance put his hands on the table, serious for once. “If he’s really the Moon’s Scion, then I’ll do everything I can to help.”

“Wait, I still don’t understand.” Keith felt like he was on the edge of something too big, the ground ready to drop out from beneath his feet. “Why do you care so much about the Moon Kingdom’s Prince? Neither one of you are his people. Why are you willing to risk your lives for him, what’s this Scion stuff?”

“Because this is so much more than him.” Allura said gently. “There was a war long before humanity, and the Sun and Moon were its first champions. They brought peace to the world. Then they turned on each other and because of it, they were punished. Their blood is the only thing that can restore the balance. Shiro is the heir of that bloodline and now that the Galra have killed the royal line in the Sun Kingdom, we need to protect Shiro at all costs. He was marked for this at birth, if he falls too, then the Earth and the Heavens fall with him.” 

Keith felt his jaw drop down to the table as Lance stared down into his drink, fingers worrying the rim. He had always known Shiro was more than the chains around his wrists, but a first a prince and now the last hope of Heaven and Earth? It was all too much. He couldn’t reconcile that power and destiny with the laughing man who pulled him down into clean, worn sheets or smeared ink across his face or teased him gently as he missed his footing during training and landed on his face. “Do the Galra know?”

“Emperor Zarkon does.” Allura looked calm, but even she couldn’t hide her nerves. “That’s why we’re going to rescue him and take him to the Temple of Heaven so he can restore the balance.”

“How the hell is Shiro supposed to do that?” Keith cried out, but no one outside of their table seemed to notice. He couldn’t feel sorry for his outburst.

“He won’t be the only one, but he has a part to play, like all of us who started the war. The Sun and the Moon, the Immortals, and the Celestial and Earthly Gods.” Allura recited softly. There was a gravity to her voice that sent shivers up Keith’s spine, like the first time he’d watched his mentors practice the Way of the Golden Empress. “Only together will we have the power to open the Gates of Heaven.” 

“But the Sun’s line is already dead.” Lance said. “How are we supposed to do this without them?”

A sudden swoop of emotion had Keith holding his breath, hoping against hope that Allura would have an answer. The Golden Horde had been beaten back and tormented for decades. They had little left in the way of hope, but if there was any chance that a member of the royal family still survived, they would rally around them. But the mysterious warrior only shook her head, and Keith’s heart sank all over again.

“I don’t know… But we have to try. We don’t have any other choice.”

The captain cursed foully, and downed the rest of his drink. He slammed his mug on the table hard enough to rattle it, but his expression was solemn. “Then you have my boat.” It lasted for only a moment, before he turned to Keith with an audacious wink. “It’s a really _big_ one too. And don’t think that’ll get you out of my travel fee. Captain’s orders.”

Keith sighed. Shiro and the fate of the world rested in the hands of an idiot.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains references to torture, and sexualized threats.
> 
> Please leave comments if you enjoy it!

Allura was a tactical genius, and she laid out her plan with skill and precision. To gather information, she had hidden herself in plain sight within the palace as a concubine, and the Galra had been so bewitched by her beauty, that no one suspected she was an enemy. It had allowed her to build a spy's path through the Empress's Heart. Any doubts that Keith had about her fighting skills had vanished that night when she led him through a series of secret passages back into the palace. Whenever they were challenged, she attacked before Keith could even pull his dagger and left the unconscious bodies of their enemies slumped over in the shadows where they wouldn’t be seen. She wasn’t even breathing hard and Keith was grateful she was on his side.

She led him across the enormous complex, passing unseen right beneath the eyes of the enemy. Keith suspected she’d used more of her magic somehow, just like she had in the bar, shielding them from sight as they crept through dark gardens and quiet courtyards.

They arrived back at the Temple of Transcendent, climbing the stone steps of the dais and peering into the unkempt shrine. The candle from last night had burned itself out. Even the smallest sliver of faith had flickered out. “What are we doing here?” He hissed. “I already checked last night. There’s nothing here.”

“There is, you just didn’t have the power to see it.” She replied softly. “The Galra’s magic corrupts, it’s a violent and ugly thing. It twists the world around it. Even I can’t break through, but there’s old magics here too, set down by your Golden Empress herself when the kingdom was new when She ruled from the throne on earth. They can help break through the corruption and Galra traps to open the way. You’re going to help me.”

The soldier blinked before narrowing his eyes. “I’m not a soldier priest, the Galra destroyed anyone who knew the ways of magic decades ago.”

Allura offered him a smile, patting Keith’s shoulder to reassure him. “You don’t need any magic. You’re one of Her people. I could never get the temple to listen to me, but it should recognize one of Her faithful as long as you believe.”

“I always will,” Keith said, raising his chin proudly in case Allura opted to challenge him but always sure in his trust for his Golden Empress. To his surprise, Allura unsheathed her sword and fell to a familiar starting position.

“Then follow Her way.”

Keith shivered, like a spirit had whispered his name, but he fell into position beside her. There was no crackle of power, no instant of reassurance, but as he stretched out his arms and centered his focus in  _Rising Sun,_  Keith felt whole again.

To the Empress, battle was prayer, and prayer was power. In Her most glorious temple, they performed the most important of Her teachings.

 _Rising Sun, Casting Shadows, Gentle Light_. They moved through the basic forms with masterly skill. For the first time in ages, Keith realized he was in the presence of a scholar _;_  a true practitioner of Her way. Allura’s eyes were closed in meditation, but she demanded more of him than his brigade ever had. She pushed him harder, faster, until sweat dripped down his brow and his breath came in short gasps. Every strike was precise, every block was unbreakable, but every movement was poetry.  _Dappled Beams, Sunlight through Branches, Light Over Water._

She pushed, and pushed, until Keith could no longer keep up. He was strained to the very limits of his knowledge and always a step behind, but he followed the best he could, guided by an unseen hand and heat that flowed through his veins with the force of a raging river. The air had grown thin, like the calm before a storm, and his heart pounded with all the force of one. He’d never even seen some of the forms she executed, but he knew in his heart that they were right.

It all culminated in  _Sun and Sky._

When Allura stopped there were tears in her eyes, and she bowed to the dais so deeply, her forehead almost touched the ground. It was a private gesture, something aching and raw, and Keith looked away, ashamed that he’d trespassed. She might not have been one of the Golden Horde, but she loved the Empress.

That was when he saw it, the gold lines that cut through the floor as molten rivers moved through stone. They seemed part of the architecture, but as he watched, they glowed with power.

“Allura.” His voice broke around her name, but when she turned to greet him, she offered him a pained smile and squeezed his shoulder. “They lead behind the throne…”

“Then we have to follow.”

There was a stone spiral on the ground, smaller than the one he’d found the previous night, and artfully hidden by the corner of the Empress’s throne. This time, when Keith pushed, the stone moved. It slid under the platform, just far enough to reveal a staircase that descended into darkness. They shared a glance. There was no turning back now, and neither of them wanted to.

Allura went first, her weapon drawn as she carefully tested for more signs of corruption. Keith followed behind, gripping his fishing dagger tightly as they made their way through ancient passages that didn’t look like anyone had set foot in them since they were made. Scenes of battle and myth were drawn with gold along the walls, but the pictures glowed with their own supernatural light that guided them on their way.

He stopped, frowning at a scene where the Golden Empress in a bright sunburst crown sat beside a dark-skinned woman crowned with the crescent moon. In their hands bloomed a lotus flower. That wasn’t part of the Empress’s story, he would have known.

“Come on.” Allura jostled Keith on the shoulder, snapping him out of his daydream. “There’s no time.”

He nodded firmly, leaving the strange carvings behind. The feeling in his chest was back, some sort of energy humming in his veins so loudly he could almost feel it in his teeth. Whatever was calling to him was close, he could sense it.

Abruptly the passage stopped.

A hidden door slid open in front of them, leading to a dull, roughly carved passage. Unlike the secret Empress’s hall, this one didn’t have any carvings in the muted stone walls and was lit by flickering torches. Soft noises echoed from the maze of doorways that branched off in every direction, distant howling and animal snarling. From so far away, some of them even sounded like human voices, screaming and unintelligible.

Keith shuddered. This had to be where the Druids worked their foul magics.

“Do you know where we’re going?” Keith asked, hoping against hope that they wouldn’t have to traipse blind through the worst the Galra had to offer. Allura shook her head.

“No, but I have an idea. I’ve been saving this for so long. Now I see it was meant for something special.” From her pouch, she retrieved a small cube that she placed in the center of Keith’s palm. As it began unfolding itself, he gasped in surprise, but Allura’s expression remained unreadable. It flattened into a golden square, etched along its perimeter with the language of the Sun Kingdom, but the characters were ancient and complicated. In the center was a golden needle that teetered gently. Keith could barely recognize the words, but he recognized the device.

“A compass?” A broken one at that. It didn’t even point north. If it wasn’t for the stylized sun in the center, Keith would have thought she’d lost her mind completely. “Where did you get this?”

“That’s a story for another time. Right now, the prince needs us.” Keith swallowed thickly as she took his hands in hers, cradling the device close. “This compass is like no other and will show us the way. Right now, you are the closest tie we have to the prince. I need you to focus on him, to clear your mind and draw your strength from what you remember of your time together.”

Keith didn’t know how to explain the way his hands prickled with sensation beneath smooth metal, or how the words on the plate seemed to dance at the corner of his eyes, but as he drew himself inward, taking her advice to heart, the feeling in his chest sharpened. Then it  _pulled._

Keith took off running.

He sprinted passed dark doorways where things moaned in the shadows, Allura close at his keels. There weren’t any palace guards down in the Druid tunnels. They protected their secrets even from their own and Keith hoped their luck would hold out just a little while longer. They were lead down twisting pathways, deeper into the tunnels beneath the temple.

Finally, the compass spun and Keith skidded to a stop. Allura nearly crashed into him. “Here.” He said, breathless with anticipation. “Behind this door.”

She nodded and pushed against the solid stone door, bound in place by iron locks. Allura did the work of giants. A few hard jolts from her shoulder and the metal screeched and bent, the door slowly grinding open.

“Shiro? Shiro?!” Keith slipped through the open space drawn by more than just the compass in his hand. He stopped dead, heart crawling up in his throat as Allura whispered a quiet prayer in a foreign tongue.

The stone slab took up most of the room, an ancient alter carved in grotesque symbols that glowed with a sickly purple. A man lay bound on its surface, body scarred and eyes darting beneath his eyelids even though he seemed like he was asleep.  He twisted in the restraints, a silver metal arm shot through the same dark Galra magic that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

Keith crept closer, knowing in his heart that it was Shiro and still hoping that he could be wrong. He reached trembling fingers out to gently cup the captive’s face, turning him towards the light and inhaled sharply. Shiro looked older, tired, with a deep scar across his face from his last battle in the arena. Even a shock of hair had turned white in his months with the Druids, though Keith had no idea if it was from magic or torture.

Shiro was paler than a ghost, a true gwailo at long last, and Keith knew without a doubt that the last time he’d seen sunlight was that fateful day at the Arena. Bile crept up the back of Keith’s throat, and for a moment, his entire world swayed.

He should have been faster. He should have looked harder. Shiro had spent _months_  in this hell hole, and Keith knew enough of war to know that Shiro would never fully return.

“Oh Goddess, what did they do to him?” 

“Nothing good.” Allura whispered, and her eyes were dark like a woman who’d seen too many lifetimes, and not for the first time, Keith wondered about the company he kept. “Stand back.”

The tip of her blade touched Shiro’s chains. A spark of blue flame burnt from it, so bright it looked like it was made of ice. The iron hissed as it disintegrated, fading into purple mist. Before it was completely gone, Keith had rushed forward, wrapping his arms around his partner and cradling him against his chest. His silver arm flared to life on contact, and Keith tensed, but it was cool to the touch. Colder than any living human could be.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against Shiro’s brow. It wasn’t a promise he could keep, but Keith would damn well try. He moved Shiro’s arm over his shoulder and dug his grip under his arm to support him. Allura came up on Shiro’s other side, and suddenly he didn’t seem so heavy.

“We have to hurry.”

Keith’s compass now swiveled towards the exit. Even though they knew the way out, the halls seemed to go on forever. Shiro had gone so still, Keith wasn’t sure he was breathing. The Druid’s cavern faded away as they reached the decorated walls of the Empress’s temple, and then they were free, greeted by the crisp night air. It felt like Keith was waking from a nightmare, but Shiro was heavy in his grasp, and all he wanted to do was make sure he was okay.

“We have to get him out of here before-”

The loud clang of an alarm sounded through the city, cutting Keith off. For a moment, all he and Allura could do was stare.

“The wall!”

The entire palace must be on alert now and once they realized that Shiro was missing, they would start tearing the very ground apart to find him. Keith kept his eyes locked on the way ahead so he didn’t have to look at Shiro, counting out each step and readying himself for the fight of his life.

They burst out of the temple and raced down the steps, no time for stealth. Shiro was still unresponsive and heavy, his weight digging into Keith’s side but he never loosened his grip. Either they would find a way to make it out of here, or they both wouldn’t. There was no going back now.

Allura led him through the gardens and courtyards, dancing around the rushing guards with luck or skill or magic, Keith didn’t care which one as long as it worked. They were almost free!

“I knew you were a traitor.” A familiar voice crawled up his spine and Keith froze.

“Sendak.”

The Commander stood before them, sword at the ready as he blocked their path to the wall. 

Keith moved to draw his dagger, but Allura stopped his hand. “Go.” She said, slowly releasing Shiro. In the distance, Keith could hear the approach of an army, but the warrior remained firm. “I’ll hold them off.”

“Allura…”

“The Scion of the Moon needs to reach the Temple of Heaven.” She answered softly. “Then find the rest of them.”

“What about you?” Keith hissed, as she raised her sword in one, fluid motion. It glinted in the moonlight. Keith wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the blade, but for a moment, its razor edge glowed silver. There was something grim about her smile. Staying behind was a suicide mission and neither one of them wanted to say it out loud.

She pulled Keith in close, placing a gentle hand over his heart. “Be brave, my friend. It might be dark, but the sun always rises. You can do this.” She looked so sad and alone in that moment, turning back to Sendak and settling sacrifice across her shoulders like armor. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

Keith wasn’t sure he believed her, but he dragged Shiro towards a gate in the wall and leaving their savior behind.

Sendak moved to intercept Keith and Shiro, intent on recovering his prize. Two of his favorite toys together, the temptation was too great to resist. Shiro had been broken by hands more skilled than his, but Sendak wanted to see just how low he could grind Keith beneath his heel. “I’m not done with you yet, boy!”

“You’ll have to go through me first.” Allura planted herself in front of the massive Galra who looked down at the warrior woman and laughed.

“They send a little girl to fight me while they run? I always knew he was a coward.” Sendak sneered. “I don’t have any problems killing a woman, you don’t stand a chance.”

“You’ll have a problem killing this one.”

Allura swung her sword in graceful arcs around her body, beautiful and dangerous. The Galra accepted her challenge and attacked. He was bigger than she was , muscles like steel and fueled by a sick bloodlust to see his opponent hurt. He was direct, trying to break Allura apart with inelegant but unstoppable blows. Allura moved between each strike like a leaf in the wind, making the powerful Galra warrior look clumsy next to her grace. She was impossibly swift, striking fast and deep as she drew first blood.

Sendak snarled. “Stand still and fight!”

She didn’t rise to the taunt, catching the Galra’s sword against her own, the full force of Sendak’s strength bearing down on her and refused to move. This was a monster, less human then the creatures caught and forced to fight in the arena for sport. She could read the cruelty in his eyes, the darkness of his soul laid bare. The Galra corrupted everything they touched, but this soldier reveled in it. A killer, a rapist, sick and twisted and enjoying every bit of pain he could wring from his victims with pride.

“I’m going to gut you.” He said between his teeth, lips curving into a cold smile. “After I use you. I’ve never had one of the Emperor’s painted whores before.” The sick threats cut off as Allura whirled with a shout, sword flashing with fire and cutting deep through Sendak’s arm. The Galra howled in pain, dropping down to his knees as his bloody sword clattered to the ground beside him.

More soldiers were pouring in from every corner, gathering close as they watched their Commander fall and Allura raised her blade in a bloodstained salute, murmuring a prayer for the souls each and every enemy that stood against her. She had to buy enough time for Keith and Shiro to escape.

“Watch over them.” She murmured to the Heavens and raised her sword. She was supposed to guide them, but there wasn’t time to teach them any of the things they needed to know. They were so young and inexperienced, taking up a war that had been raging for thousands of years. It wasn’t fair, none of this was. There was supposed to be guardians to protect the Scion, but now she was the only one left and she was failing.

No, failure wasn’t an option. Even if she was the only one to fight, she would make her stand. There was still hope, however slim. Allura refused to lose.

But she didn’t have to win either.

To the gathered soldiers, she made the wind sing with the force of her blade and called out with a mad smile. “Come get me!”

 

* * *

 

 

Just outside the wall, Lance was waiting in a flat-bottomed wooden boat that bobbed with the currents. In the middle of the great canal, it looked almost hilariously delicate. The captain wasn’t laughing.

“Come on!” He yelled, and when they jumped down, the entire raft jostled.

“How is this supposed to get us anywhere!?” Keith snapped, at odds with the tender way he moved Shiro beneath the overhanging shelter. He cupped the prince’s cheek, gently soothing him like he had any way of fighting the nightmares that plagued him. At least Shiro wouldn’t have to fight them alone.

“Leave that to me, pretty boy.”

Lance huffed as he retrieved a thick, heavy oar from the depths of the boat and started paddling. They passed slowly at first, and Keith swore that he could hear the clash of swords echoing through his ears. Then the boat moved faster and faster, as if the very currents were spurring them on.

Keith didn’t know how they managed it, but they reached the harbors at the edge of the city in one piece. Lance guided them towards a sea-ready junk, its black square-shaped sails already raised, as if already in flight.

They dragged Shiro to the lower deck, Keith refusing to leave his side even for a moment as Lance snapped orders at scurrying sailors. They looked too rough to be anything but pirates, no legitimate sailor or fisherman would bristle with so many weapons and those were just the ones that Keith could see. This was another side of the flirtatious asshole. Lance seemed almost capable as he ordered his men to haul hanger and man the oars to put as much distance between them and any pursuers as possible. Keith had a begrudging respect that Lance could be at least partially useful.

He hunched over Shiro’s body, snarling when anyone got too close. “You’re okay now, you’re safe.” They were far from safe, but some missing piece had settled back in Keith’s heart, and even the desperate flight away from the Sun Kingdom and his betrayal of everything he’d ever fought for didn’t seem as daunting with Shiro alive and back where Keith could touch him. He stroked his fingers through the new white hair that crowned Shiro’s forehead, a moment of gentle tenderness in the midst of chaos like they were in their own world. “I’m not going to let them hurt you ever again.”

He wished he could lie next to his partner and wrap himself around Shiro like they’d done a thousand times before. Even in his sleep, Shiro seemed to gravitate towards him. They may not have been safe, but at least he was no longer in the presence of enemies.

“Is that him?”

Though Keith would scarcely call the pirate captain a  _friend._ He came sliding down on the banister that connected the upper and lower decks. His big fluffy feathered hat was back. Keith liked it as much as he had the first time he saw it, which was to say, not at all.

“Of course it is. Do you think I came back with the first gwailo I could find?”

“I think you’re a pig-faced ass, who wouldn’t know the Moon Scion if he smacked you in your pig-face.” Lance turned back with a sneer. Keith was going to clobber him. He would have, if the entire ship didn’t teeter with the force of a powerful wave.

Lance cursed, catching his hat before it flew off his head, and one of the pirates called down from the deck. “Captain! There’s a Sun Navy ship gaining on us!”

They were attacking. Keith blanched, turning with almost hopeless horror. “Allura…?”

She was supposed to hold them off! If they were sailing after them, then Keith feared the worse.

“She’s fine! We have to go, or are you blind?” Lance flung his arms out at the enormous warship gaining speed as they sailed out of the protected harbor. “We don’t have a choice.”

“She’s going to die if we leave her behind, we have to go back.” Keith knew they didn’t have a chance even as he said it. He looked back towards the shore and immediately regretted it. He’d never been on the other end of the Sun Kingdom’s might. Disloyalty and treachery had been so impossible that he’d never considered it before. No wonder other nations trembled before them, Keith could feel fear gripping his chest.

Lance gripped his arm, serious in a way Keith had never seen. “We can’t let them get the Scion, Allura knew that. She gave us a chance to escape and we need to take it. I need your help if we’re going to get out of this alive.”

Keith nodded, swallowing thickly and reluctantly laid Shiro on the deck with one last brush of his fingertips. They couldn’t give up, he wasn’t going to let them fail.

The race was on; Lance’s crew more skilled than Keith had given them credit for. The ship rolled and plunged beneath Keith’s feet, salt-water spray heavy in his lungs as he took his place among them. He’d never been aboard a ship before, and the motion made him feel slightly queasy as he helped the sailors haul the sails higher, rope biting into his palms. The junk was smaller and more nimble than the warship, but the small ship couldn’t outpace the predator. Great billowing red sails caught the wind like fire over the water, drawing the ship closer. Further behind, other warships raced from the horizon, joining the hunt. The mark of the Empire was on every one.

“Give it everything we’ve got, all your lives depend on it!” Lance yelled out over the booming waves, trying to drive his men on. He strode across the deck like he owned it, perfectly at home on the sea and charting out a course like he could sense every gust of wind and every hidden current to give them any edge.

“We’re not going to make it.” Keith found his way over to the Captain. “We need to get ready to fight.”

“If they catch us, then we don’t have a chance. We can’t make a stand, our only hope is to run.” The Captain narrowed his eyes at the ships behind them. “At least they’re not going to blow us out of the water, they don’t want to risk killing the Scion.”

“With how quickly they’re gaining, we might as well be standing still!” 

“Wait!” Lance silenced Keith with a hand to the face, and Keith wondered if stabbing him was really considered mutiny. One of the pirates rushed down the crow’s nest, already soaked to his skin in salt water.

“Captain, Captain! There’s a storm on the horizon!”

“I know.” Something flickered across Lance’s smile, something too sharp and too knowing, and when he turned, Keith had to lock his feet in place to keep from retreating. “Change course, you sea rats! South by south-east! We don’t have to outrun. We just have to outlast them! The sea god _Manalanta_  is generous if you ask!”

There was a crazed light in his eyes, but his crew scrambled to obey him all the same. Keith heard the first rumble of thunder then, and as they changed course, it seemed like the storm was rushing to greet them, a faster enemy than even the navy at their back. He turned behind them and it almost looked like the Sun Kingdom’s fleet had slowed. In seconds the storm had gathered strength, and any seasoned sailor knew how mercurial the sea could be.

Only the Pirate Captain continued the mad dash forward. Lance won them a few minutes of freedom, until his lookout yelled, “Captain, they’re still approaching!”

Lance was breathing hard, sweat peppering across his brow. It started to rain, cold droplets pelting the deck and lightning split the skies. “Trim the sails!” He snarled. “We’re going to out sail the winds!”

“Captain we can’t-”

“ _Do it_!”

It was insanity. It was desperation. Keith didn’t know, but it felt like he’d given his life to a ship that was going to capsize at any minute. Until a dark figure stepped out on deck.

“Shiro!” Shiro couldn’t be here. He was still recovering! Keith rushed down the staircase, but the prince raised both his hands. All of a sudden, there was silence.

Then it fractured.

The sky cracked open with a flash of light, and the very seas rose up to answer. Impossible, indescribable power coursed through their ship, cutting through the air with the rumble of thunder. Shiro reached up to the Heavens and brought down devastation.

Power throbbed around him so brightly that Keith had to look away, the silver arm tinged with sickly purple veins. The sky screamed to meet him, thunder crashing so loudly that it forced the entire crew down to their knees. Rain drove down in a solid sheet, battering the men and Keith coughed as his lungs filled with water.

Shiro stood on the deck, looking out at the advancing fleet like an avenging god, light crackling around his body in the same flickering dance as the sky. The storm answered his call, feeding on his fury as waves rose to the size of mountains and dashed the crew across the deck. Lightening streaked across the sky, following Shiro’s hands as it smashed into the Sun Kingdom ship which exploded into flaming splinters before the waves sucked it down.

“STOP HIM!” Lance screamed, clinging on to the mast for dear life. Keith slid across the deck as the boat pitched hard and almost capsized. Sailors’ screams were lost to the roar of the storm as they were flung overboard.

“Shiro! Shiro, please!” He shouted at the prince, but nothing could bring him back. Keith grabbed one of the frayed ropes from the torn sails now snapping through the air like a whip, wrapping it around his wrist and slowing inched his way over to the vengeful priest. “Shiro!”

When he finally turned, Keith had to stifle a scream. Shiro’s eyes had gone completely black, nothing human left in the emptiness. He stared at Keith like he barely saw him, or that he was too insignificant to matter. Keith ignored his terror, throwing his arms around the avenging prince and refused to let go, even as silver flame licked across his skin. The light around them snuffed out like a candle. The world plunged into darkness and Shiro collapsed bonelessly on the deck. Keith yelped, crashing down with Shiro and clinging desperately as an enormous wave threw the ship sideways. The mast snapped and the little junk finally tipped, throwing them all into the sea.

The last thing Keith saw was the giant fanged mouth of a sea monster bursting out of the wild ocean to close around him, swallowing him whole.

And then everything was dark.


	11. Chapter 11

Death was very uncomfortable.

A rhythmic booming pounded in Keith’s ear as he groaned, carefully testing each limb and making a mental list of each part of his body that ached. The current tally: everything. He was wet and gritty, sand in every available crevasse as he shifted and squinted open his eyes. Salt and too bright sun burned, and he blinked back tears as he tried to refocus his eyes. 

And screamed.

The seagull that had been staring inches from his face took off with an outraged  _caw_  and Keith bolted up, staring out at the clear, calm ocean. Sunlight danced on bright blue waves that lazily rolled against the unspoiled beach in the little cove. The bubbling, foamy edges reached out for Keith’s feet before slipping back into the ocean until the next wave took its place.

Lush tropical trees spilled out beyond the edge of the beach, insects and birds raising their voices in an off key hum. The last thing he remembered was being swallowed by a giant sea monster, and now he’d woken up in paradise.

_Shiro!_

His seawater soaked brain finally caught up with the rest of him and he scrambled, looking around for the other man and exhaled a ragged sigh of relief when he saw Shiro laying on the beach not ten feet away. Keith scrambled over, checking him thoroughly. Besides being damp and sandy, he didn’t look any worse for wear and was still breathing like he was asleep. Keith gave a quiet sob, curling up on Shiro’s chest just to feel his heart beat and whispered a prayer of thanks.

“We’re okay. I’ve got you, Shiro, we made it.”

As if hearing his name, Shiro groaned and shifted in Keith’s arms. Keith caught his breath as the other man coughed the sea from his lungs, rubbing his back as he swallowed giddy laughter. “Hey there, I’m here. Are you okay?”

Dark eyes found his own and Keith felt his heart melt. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to cup Shiro’s face and draw him in, aching to kiss him after so long.

A hand gripped his wrist hard enough to bruise and he stared in shock as Shiro’s face twisted into a snarl. “Glint.”

Keith recoiled in shock. He just wasn’t fast enough. They were both exhausted, but Shiro expected a fight. He flipped Keith on his back and threw him into the sand. He pressed his forearm into Keith’s throat, cutting off his air, his right hand raised to strike. That’s when he saw it, the twisted, beaten silver where skin used to be. It seemed alive, pulsating with power not unlike a beating heart, and it demanded blood.

“What…” A tremor rippled through his voice, and for one moment, Shiro only looked scared. He rallied well-enough, snarling through his horror as he pushed hard on Keith’s windpipe. “What the Hell did you do to me!?”

Keith choked out his reply, trying to escape the choke hold, but Shiro had him trapped. It didn’t matter that he didn’t want to hurt Shiro. Shiro was going to hurt him enough for the both of them. “Ssstop… Shiro stop!”

“I knew noodle head was lying,” a gratingly familiar voice piped up over Shiro’s shoulder. Just behind the pair, Pirate Captain Lance appeared in one piece, and even though his ship and his crew were nowhere to be found, he somehow managed to found his stupid hat. But he wasn’t alone.

A tall, tanned warrior stepped forward. There was a heavy machete at his waist, but he didn’t raise it to catch Shiro’s attention. ”Hey guy, take it easy. No one’s going to hurt you, but you gotta do the same.”

He spoke in the language of the Sun kingdom with a less pronounced accent than Shiro had. His broad chest and strong arms were covered in intricate tattoos that dipped and stretched across his muscles, down to his generous belly. Around his waist hung a printed cloth, bound twice by a long sash that matched his headband. A small necklace of pressed gold hung around his throat.

Shiro glanced up at the two stranger without releasing his pressure on the Sun soldier’s throat. He could  _feel_  with his artificial hand, a shivery slippery electric prickle of foreign magic and a half-remembered phantom pain for a loss he couldn’t explain. Oh god, why couldn’t he remember? Flashes battered the inside of his skull: the Temple of the Moon burning, heavy chains locked around his body, the screaming until his throat tore and bled, choking him…

He hauled Keith up to his feet, stretching him up to his toes. Panic set in, a shapeless unknown that set the world lurching under Shiro’s feet and the only thing he knew for sure was that he held the enemy. The glints had done this, they’d killed everyone and mutilated him somehow!

The tattooed warrior shot Lance a worried look. “Uh, Can we maybe talk about this? Killing people seems a really bad way to start the morning.”

“I’ve got this.” Lance stepped forward, holding out his hands and putting on his best charming smile. Keith went stock still and closed his eyes, sure that idiot was going to get him killed. “Hey there, Prince guy. I’m Captain Lance. That asshole right there is Keith and I know that he has kind of a punchable face, but how about you put him down and just relax for a minute. I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, and honestly, after the fact you sank my entire ship last night, you sort of owe me.”

Shiro’s eyes were wide, breathing heavily as his fingers tightened and Keith made a soft pained noise but didn’t try to escape. “Who _are_ you? What happened to me?”

“Listen my buddy, my guy, your Princely Moonness.” Lance said, smile growing wider. “There was a storm, thank you very much for causing it. We were ship wrecked and now I would really love to go get clean and eat something I can actually swallow. So put Keith down and just relax.”

“No one’s going to hurt you.” The tattooed warrior said with a careful grin, taking a step forward. “I’m Hunk, you sort of washed up on my home. Totally by accident, I’m guessing, but a guest is a guest.”

Lance shrugged. “Like we would come all this way without stopping by to say hello to my best friend in the entire world.”

Shiro looked between the two men in confusion, trying to make sense of the fragments in his head and the tranquil tropical paradise around him. Nothing made sense. Slowly, he uncurled his fingers and Keith scrambled away, looking at Shiro with hurt and betrayal in his eyes.

“Aww, you’re just saying that, dude.”

“Nu-uh, my best friend in the  _whole_  world.” Lance fluttered his eyelashes at Hunk, before slinging an arm over the other man’s shoulders and draping himself against the line of his body. Hunk made a face and tugged at Lance’s soggy shirt, but he didn’t move away.

It was an effective distraction. As long as Shiro watched them, he didn’t have to watch the glint try to put himself back together, his expression clouded with dismay and something that looked too familiar. It made Shiro’s insides twist.

“You don’t know who I am.” Keith said.

“I don’t know who any of you are,” the prince hissed. “Or where I am, or what I’m doing here, or-!” He swallowed thickly, breath coming in quickening gasps, and Shiro refused to look at the heavy metal monstrosity by his side. It felt like he was sinking, but there was nothing for him to hold on to, and everything was coming apart so quickly.

“Then what do you remember?” The glint was trying to make himself appear smaller, his hands wrapped around his middle, his shoulders slumped and defeated. It grated on Shiro’s nerves. 

“There was an attack on the Temple of the Moon.” That image was clear in his mind, the ancient temple burning against the morning sky. “The glints attacked, they slaughtered nearly everyone. There were  _children_  there, we had to hold them back but there were just too many. They took us and, and….” Shiro faltered, fighting to hold onto the pieces of his memories before they slipped away. He looked at his hands, slowly flexing the silver fingers. “I can’t remember.”

“You’re okay now, you’re a long ways away from home. Why don’t you come with us and we can talk over food.” Hunk said brightly, gesturing Shiro over. “Things always make more sense when you have something in your belly.”

The prince narrowed his eyes at the enemy glint, but let Hunk talk him down and lead him and Lance back along the beach. Keith couldn’t move, staring after them as shards of broken glass rattled around his chest with every shallow breath.

Shiro didn’t know him. His eyes had been filled with hate and fear like Keith was a stranger. Every tender moment, the laughter, the love… The last night they had together, Shiro had looked at him like Keith had been his entire world, so vulnerably in love that it still caused a flush of heat to creep into his skin. Keith had kissed Shiro’s forehead in the morning, leaving without waking his lover with all of their goodbyes whispered before the sunrise.

He gave a quiet sob, wrapping his arms around himself as if he could keep himself from crumbling. He had thought he’d lost everything before, Keith hadn’t realized what it was like to truly have nothing.

Yet there was still hope, no matter how fragile and fleeting. It was the one thing that made Keith put one foot in front of the other and trudge across the sand after the others. His Shiro was gone, but maybe it wasn’t forever. If he could just get Shiro to listen, then there was still a chance.

They were taken to a small group of box-shaped huts that were raised high on stilts. There were nearly a dozen of them, with walls of polished bamboo rods and roofs of dried nipa leaves. The farthest out were directly over the deep sea, and all were connected by long bamboo bridges that criss-crossed over the village. Their windows were thrown wide to welcome the sea breeze, and a set of ladders stood just off the shore with others that led directly over the ocean. A few people turned in interest, but it was clear that Lance was too familiar a sight to rankle much gossip. Just as they reached the top of the ladder, a group of children bowled over the pirate captain with almost as much enthusiasm as they reserved for Hunk. They all shared the warrior’s golden brown tan and thick black hair.

“Grrr, grr I’m a sea dragon!” A little boy yelled before a little girl cupped her hands over her mouth and roared into Lance’s ear. Lance nearly dropped her, but it was all a distraction for her friend to snatch the pirate’s hat and take off running down the winding bridges. She laughed as she raced after him.

“Hey- hey get back here! That’s the third one this month!”

Hunk plucked him on the back of the shirt to keep him from giving chase, and the boy sitting on his broad shoulders blew a raspberry at Lance’s mock-dismay. “That’s what you get for not bringing souvenirs, bro.”

He was remarkably calm for someone whose hair was being chewed. Lance looked absolutely affronted and sidled up to the warrior, prodding him in the chest. “Hey, I try. My boat sank, I totally had stuff, and I brought guests. Doesn’t that count?”

As if on cue, they both turned to face the newcomers. Hunk shrugged.

“They call me the South Sea Dragon,” Lance said, striking a pose, a bizarre sort of regal in his salt-drench clothes as he leered at the pair. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Do you wanna see  _whyyyy_?”

Keith looked faintly green.

“We’re on the Islands, aren’t we?” Shiro piped up suddenly, a flicker of new emotion beating back the fear in his eyes, if only for a moment.

The islands were thousands of miles from his homeland, a place he’d only heard of in his lessons, a place the White Lady liked to call blessed. Shiro tried to piece together the memories of their journey and failed. How had he gotten here? How long had he been gone? Something sharp and acrid rose in the back of his throat, but Hunk slung an arm around Shiro’s shoulder and laughed, purposely distracting Shiro from himself. “You are, and not just any island. You’re on the jewel of the Islands, and I’m not just saying that because I live here. Okay, a little bit of it’s because I live here.”

“I don’t live here and I’d agree!” Lance followed them into one of the huts, trailing a chain of little children who’d attached themselves to his legs, including the one that had managed to steal Lance’s enormously feathered hat, which was much too big and had slid all the way down to his nose. Shiro slowly sat down on a large woven rug, relaxing slightly when the children clustered around him, peering at the newcomer but too shy to get close.

Keith wobbled on his feet, exhausted and heartbroken, unable to even look at Shiro as he sat in the corner. He barely even noticed when Hunk set a warm clay bowl in his hands and sat down so heavily on the floor that the hut trembled. “Go on, eat something. That’ll make everything better.”

Meanwhile, Lance moved through the home with clear familiarity, helping Hunk serve all their guests like it was second nature before taking a seat next to Shiro.

Shiro took a small sip of rice congee and seasoned fish, hands curled around the bowl before he set it down with a sigh. “I need answers. What happened to me, how did I get here? Who  _are_  all of you?”

They all exchanged looks, waiting for Keith to say something, but he remained stubbornly silent. Finally, Lance sighed. “A friend told me that you were captured by the Galra. I don’t know how long or what they did, but they got you out and we tried to get you out of there. You ended up calling up a storm to stop the Sun Kingdom navy ships that were chasing us and our ship went down too. But you’re safe now, and we can figure out how to get you home.”

“What?” One of the children asked, just as a little boy clapped his hands over his mouth and whispered, “Nooo.”

Lance’s face morphed into utter delight, and he rounded on an audience that he immediately made his. “There I was, surrounded by the best of the Sun navy! There were three, seven, no nine-”

“ _Fifteen_!” Hunk chimed in, and Lance laughed, finding another reason to drape an arm around his best friend before waving his spoon like a sword.

“Fifteen navy ships, all chasing after me and trying to catch my tail!”

He was met with a chorus of  _oohs_  and  _boos._ Pirate he may have been, but it was clear who the natives considered villains.

“What’d’you do what’d’you do?”

“Did Hunk save you like last time!?”

“Shut up he’s gonna tell us!”

“We can’t go back.” Keith spoke up, still staring into his soup, but he held such a dour demeanor that everyone turned to stare. When he looked up, Shiro was glaring at him, and he hastily averted his eyes, just barely managing to avoid crawling into his own shirt. “We have to get to the Temple of Heaven. Everything depends on it.”

The words settled heavily over the little group, promising more questions than answers. Hunk took the situation by the throat, getting to his feet with a mighty stretch. “That’s enough story time for now. You guys get outta here. Silay’ll be back soon and you have to help with the nets.”

“Come back later, and I’ll make Hunk braid your hair.” The pirate promised easily, with a smile that stayed warm until every last kid rolled out, with much grumbling and fuss and probably one of Hunk’s bowls.

Hunk closed the door behind them.

“Lance, what’s wrong?” He scooted closer to his friend, rubbing his hand down the pirate’s back and drawing him close. Lance leaned into the touch, chasing after its comfort as his grin faded, replaced with a tired grimace.

“We have to get the Prince to the Temple of Heaven.” He said carefully. “We were supposed to have a guide, but she stayed behind to give us a chance to escape. Things are bad, Hunk. Everything is out of balance and it’s just getting worse. The Prince has to set things right again.”

“Me?” Shiro furrowed his brows in confusion. “I’m not sure what you think I can do. How long has it even been since the attack?”

Keith broke in, tired with a trace of bitterness. “Over a year at least. That’s how long we’ve known each other, but I don’t know how long you were in chains. Allura said that there was something about your blood and you were the last chance everyone had, and it was our job to get you there. Emperor Zarkon knows. He’s not going to let us go so easily.”

“And I’m supposed to believe a glint? How do I know you weren’t one of the ones who murdered my friends?” Shiro snarled and Keith could feel the old flickers of rage burning in his ribs. It was easier to be angry than to be hurt. It was less dangerous or vulnerable to turn it all outwards and lash out.

“Because we were-, I was, I helped you!” Keith tripped over the words. “Whatever, I’m going to go get cleaned up.” Anger was as good an excuse as any to run, he didn’t know how much longer he could bear Shiro looking at him with such disgust before he broke down. Even Lance didn’t say a word as he shoved open the door and disappeared outside.

Hunk said looked around at the rest of their little gathering “Okay so does he know what’s going on?”

Lance shrugged and nodded, then tried to do both at the same time.

“Good. We’re gonna try this again, buddy, and this time, don’t do the thing where you start a story in the middle.”

The pirate captain snorted and ran a hand through his salty hair. He’d forgotten to get his hat back. He’d have to hunt it down later. “I’m telling you right now, this is going to be one of those stories you don’t believe.” But he was smiling again. “Hunk, warrior of Alunsina, let me introduce you to Takashi Shirogane, the  _missing_ Crown Prince of the Moon Kingdom.”

Hunk whistled.

It only got worse from there.

Shiro watched with bated breath as the pirate regaled them with a tale that was so audacious, so incredible, he wasn’t sure it was real. He didn’t know what to make of the warrior woman that Lance only respectfully referred to as _Princess_ , even if the pirate never said what she ruled over and he didn’t know how to fight the knot of tension that tightened in his gut, slowly squeezing his nerves. It wasn’t just the glints he had to fear, but the Galra, too. If their Emperor hadn’t seemed like a monster before, he certainly did now, but as Lance’s tale came to an end, Shiro was struck by how little he still knew. He was afraid of touching his arm, afraid of moving it, but he could feel the carpet against his silver palm, worn and rough and just as unyielding as his fingers.

Shiro sat in stunned silence, trying to make sense of the incredible story. “How am I supposed to save the world?” He asked, sitting up on his knees. Filling in the gaps had helped, but it still felt like a fairy story, detached from his own life and filled with foreign wonders and terrors. Light flickered across the silver of his arm and the prince frowned, flexing the metal and watching the plates move like muscle and armor. “I can’t call storms like that, my magic is nowhere near that strong. I don’t think my mother could either. It’s only a tool to fight demons, like a sword. What you’re saying happened… it’s impossible!”

“Well, I saw it with my own two eyes. If you could k-zap Zarkon and his whole stupid army with lightning from here, it would solve all our problems. You sure you can’t?” Lance sounded almost disappointed.

Halfway during the tale, Keith returned, but he sat in silence by a long table made of hollow wood, sneaking glances at all of them that got blatantly more pointed with every passing minute. At Lance’s question, he glared harder.

“Sorry, but if going to this Temple of Heaven is going to stop him and help set the world back into balance, then I’m in.” They didn’t have a plan and Shiro felt dropped into someone else’s story, but if there were people in trouble who depended on him, he would do his part. Being of the royal blood, he had a responsibility to his people. It was a sacred duty to fight the creatures of darkness, and if he could bring down the Sun Kingdom in the process, then he was eager to get started. 

“Just get some sleep first. We’ll talk to Queen Alunsina tomorrow and see what she says. Maybe she’ll find a way to help you.” Hunk offered and Shiro gave him a solemn bow.

“I would be honored.”

Keith slid further down into the corner, arms crossed over his chest and scowling. He watched as Hunk made Shiro finally laugh. It was a halting and unsure sound, but it put him at ease. Even Lance slowly won Shiro over, too honest and superficial to be any sort of threat. Shiro pointedly ignored him and Keith did his best to convince himself that it didn’t hurt as much as it did.

As the sun set over the horizon, soft mats were pulled out from Hunk’s bedroom, but even then, Shiro and Keith kept their distance. Hunk watched his guests settle into sleep as he put out the lanterns around his home and closed the wooden windows against the night spirits. Lance was already outside.

When Hunk found him, Lance was wearing his hat and using the warrior’s machete to crack open the top of a large green coconut. He handed it to him, dropping the lid into the ocean beneath them, before opening a second one for himself. They didn’t need to speak a word, automatically moving towards the end of the village, where the farthest bridges hung over the sea. It was deep enough to dive down. Hunk knew from years and years of experience. Lance knew because Hunk once pushed him in.

“You know, I really did have souvenirs, before the ship sank. One of those mechanical clocks that you like to take apart.” Lance said glumly, and Hunk snorted into his drink. “Hey! Rude!”

But he found a way to lean against Hunk again, molding himself against his body as they watched the moon climb higher into the sky. Without thinking, Hunk slung an arm around his best friend’s waist to keep him steady. He had more important things to worry about.

“None of that was embellished, was it?” He asked softly, but he already knew the answer. He knew Lance, and he knew when he was play-acting, and as a warrior in the Islands, he knew firsthand just how volatile magic could be. “You’re really in deep this time.”

Sometimes it intimidated him, how worldly the pirate captain appeared, especially when he brought back tales of grand adventures and all Hunk’s stories involved his comparatively little home. Sometimes it just annoyed him, because half the things Lance did could be avoided without any bloodshed. Now, all he felt was worry. This wasn’t an ordinary adventure.  

“I have to see this thing through.” The fate of the world didn’t seem quite so heavy when Lance could lean on Hunk. The other man was sturdy and warm, the perfect thing to ground himself with and to hold on for dear life. He’d been trying to for what felt like ever, but things never quite worked out the way they were supposed to.

He lost himself in Hunk’s arms for a moment, letting the warm ocean breeze ruffle the feathers of his hat and breathing in the scent of sweet night flowers that were just starting to open as the moon woke the stars across the sky. The world was chaotic and dangerous, but this place was peace. A paradise on earth, though to Lance, that had more to do with the man who kept him standing than even the beauty of the Islands.

“You could come with me?” He tried for the thousandth time, already knowing the answer before he asked, but unable to stop himself from taking the same steps of the same dance.

“I can’t. You know it’s my job to protect the village.” Hunk leaned over until Lance could feel his warm breath tickle along his neck and shivered.

“But this is important and I could really use you. I know you’ve always wanted to see the world and what’s better than while you’re protecting it. Please?”

Hunk laughed like this was all a joke and squeezed Lance so tightly that he squeaked. “Wish I could buddy, but I’ve got a responsibility here. Plus, not super sold on the idea of things eating me out there. If it’s some quest to save the world, then there’s always at least one thing that’s trying to eat you. I’m top of the food chain here! I’ll go get our beds ready, you staying with me or out on the beach?”

“Yeah, I…yeah. I’ll be with you in a sec.” Lance echoed his laugh and waved Hunk on until his best friend was too far away to see how his smile came apart at the seams. No matter where Lance went, Hunk always seemed to take his heart with him.

 

* * *

 

Shiro couldn’t move. His back spread across cold, unyielding stone. His arms pulled taut beyond the slab, chained to the ground or too heavy to shift, he didn’t know, but it hurt. Everything hurt. It was too dark to see, but the darkness held weight, settling over his skin and biting into his flesh. He could feel it moving over him, under him, across his lips and throat, pooling in the lines of his abdomen and sliding between his spread legs. It was tight. It was so tight, choking heat through his belly as he thrashed and groaned.

“Stop…”

Sharp, biting pressure pinched across his chest. Cold metal biting so cruelly into his tits, nipples hard and aching when they were pulled, and Shiro tried to scream but he couldn’t. There was a thick hand over his mouth, blocking his nose, Shiro couldn’t breathe.

“My pretty, obedient Champion.”

A deep violet eye kept him pinned, helpless and vulnerable as it gleamed against dull glass. The hand slid down his neck, squeezing just hard enough for his vision to narrow around the edges before letting him go. “Are you going to beg for me? You know how much I love it when you’re eager.”

Shiro grit his teeth and refused to answer. Somehow, he knew it would only make things worse. His body shuddered as Sendak trailed his fingers down to the chain that linked his nipple clamp, giving it a sharp tug until Shiro gasped. He knew the name, knew this touch, knew the outcome of their game before it even started.

“That’s right.” Sendak gripped his cock firmly, rubbing circles over the sensitive tip with his thumb. He laughed when Shiro’s hips lifted slightly to thrust against his hand. “I know exactly what you like and what you want, but all you can do is fight me. We both know you’re going to break eventually.”

“Shut u-ah!” The captive’s voice hitched and he squeezed his eyes shut.

His body bowed to his master’s touch as Sendak worked him open, slick and eager, wanting it even though he strained against it. Shiro managed one ragged cry as pressure bore down on him, yielding to Sendak’s cock as he was fucked down against the darkness. He felt so full, body trembling at the intrusion, thick and hot and heavy that dragged through him and tearing him in two. It hurt, it always hurt, but it could feel so good, too. If only he gave in. If only he begged and pleaded, bared his throat, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. Sometimes Sendak pushed for more and “ _Ahh!”_

Shiro sobbed, a strangled desperate sound. It went faster harder deeper, spilling inside him, making him burst with it. His arms burned as he tugged against his restrains, bruised black and blue as he fought to defend himself, but he never could, never when it mattered. Cruel, vicious teeth closed around his throat, sending sparks of pain that left him quivering. A tiny drop in an endless void of sensation that bled together pleasure and pain.

Sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose, sliding down his cheek like the tears he couldn’t stop  _stop_  “Stop! Stop Goddess stop-”

Sendak never did. Fucking him was almost as much about pleasure as humiliating him, making Shiro writhe for him, every way he wanted to. He owned him, destroyed him until Shiro didn’t know if he was begging for it to stop or begging for more.

He cried until he tasted copper, swallowed down his master’s tongue as he was fucked like an animal, his swollen, filthy cunt burning around his girth. Shiro couldn’t breathe, an impossible weight crushing him against the altar, bearing down on his ribs until they cracked.

Metal talons curled around his mouth, digging into the flesh of his cheeks until metal flared in bright purple, and Shiro howled.

The prince bolted upright, soaked in sweat and shaking like a leaf.

“Hey-”

Silver danced across his palms and spread across his forearms, lighting the sleepy cabin with all of the moon’s brilliance, and Shiro pressed against the wall, his face a mask of terror. Close enough to touch him, the glint looked shocked.

Shiro’s teeth clenched so hard he thought they would break. Fear and need coursed through his body like waves, shameful and sick. It was like he could still feel the touch of the Galra’s hands on his skin, inside of him, filling him.  _Sendak_. The name settled in him like an old familiar bruise.

He jerked back against the wall as Keith reached for him, but the glint was relentless in his kindness, coaxing Shiro into his arms until he surrendered, too tired to resist. He sagged against Keith with a dry, shuddering sob, and just held on. For that moment, it didn’t matter that Keith was the enemy.

They didn’t speak, neither one breaking the fragile vulnerable truce between them as Keith stroked through Shiro’s hair until the prince’s terror slowly drained from corded muscles and his breathing eased. Shiro slowly fit the pieces of himself back together again and pushed Keith away, ashamed to have shown such weakness in front of an enemy.

“I’m fine, don’t touch me.”

“I was just trying to help.” Keith was immediately on the defensive, hackles raised. He’d helped Shiro through nightmares before and for a moment, it had almost felt like it used to. 

“I don’t need help and if I did, I would never ask  _you_ , glint.” He snapped, more angry at himself than anything. Something about Keith’s touch sent sparks through his nerves and he wanted more, some kind of perverse attraction. Or was it something lingering from the nightmare? It was just a dream, but Shiro knew deep down that it was closer to a memory than anything.

Keith just didn’t always know when to back down from a fight. “I wasn’t the one who hurt you! Why won’t you trust me?”

“How can I trust you?! I don’t know anything about you! All I know is you don’t leave me alone when I want you to.”

Keith didn’t know what to say about that, and looked away, still too keyed up to let it go but trying his best. Shiro snarled under his breath and pushed himself up on shaky feet. He didn’t look back as he walked away, but Keith watched him take every step.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains references to torture, gore and violence.
> 
> Please leave comments if you enjoy it!

Keith was awake before dawn as the night sky faded into hazy pinks and oranges. Many things had changed in the past few months, but not even his desertion could shake him of the habit. Hunk’s bedroom door was still closed, and Keith wouldn’t allow himself to look at the sleeping figure on the other end of the sala. He crept out of the hut without making a sound. Today, he didn’t have to worship in a dingy room that smelled of rotting fish and stagnant water. There was an endless shore waiting for him, and Keith greeted the sun with the waves.

The prayer form  _Rising Sun_  came first, as natural as breathing before Keith stretched out into  _Casting Shadows._

Nothing else made sense anymore.

If the Goddess was to be believed, everything under Her light was rightfully Hers, including the quiet beach that Keith shared with no one. He’d never questioned that as he did now, but then, Keith had never been outside of the Kingdom until this moment. He always imagined his first trip would be to the front lines for battle. Now he realized that meant serving under the demon that called himself an Emperor, the same one he’d been supporting his whole life. The idea disgusted him, but part of him still wished he had something to believe in.

He’d placed his bets on the worst odds and lost every gamble. Keith had told himself it would all be worth it as long as Shiro was free. He’d told himself that Shiro’s safety was more important than being together. He was wrong. It felt like he was carved open and torn apart. Yet Keith would do it all again in a heartbeat because he’d been wrong, but not about everything. 

Shiro never deserved to be hurt like that.

It wasn’t resignation or understanding, but it was close enough. It gave Keith enough peace to continue, moving through the forms he knew one by one. Sweat dripped down his brow, spilling down his face to catch on his lip. Keith practiced until his arms ached and his legs trembled. In his mind’s eye, he imagined Allura, tried to remember the parts of the Empress’s path that she opened for him.

Too much still stung. His mind was in turmoil and his emotions raged with the volatility of a storm, but Keith knew one thing was certain. However he felt about Shiro, he couldn’t abandon him or this mission. He’d already seen more wonders than he ever imagined. The fate of the world hung in the balance, and at his core, Keith was a servant of the Goddess. He wouldn’t let darkness win.

“Keith?”

When Keith stopped, the sun was bright over the horizon, and the sand around him had been swept in long, graceful circles. Shiro watched him from just outside of them. “Can we talk?”

Keith’s shoulders rounded and he turned his back on Shiro. He was already raw, the wounds of last night had barely had a chance to heal, and he couldn’t take another punch. There was only so much hate and disgust in Shiro’s eyes that he could handle before he fell apart. “Can it wait? I need to get cleaned up and grab breakfast.”

“I just need a minute.” There was something in Shiro’s voice that made Keith pause.

“Fine.” He turned, eyes firmly fixed on Shiro’s feet. “What is it?” The silence stretched out between them so long that Keith finally looked up, huffing in irritation. It hurt more than he had words for and all he wanted to do was fling himself into Shiro’s arms, begging him to remember.

“I, uh. I wanted to apologize.” The words were halting and Shiro rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to find the right thing to say. “You were kind to me last night when I-, when I had trouble sleeping. It wasn’t fair of me to snap at you.”

“It’s okay, forget about it.”

“It’s not okay.” Shiro put himself in front of Keith to keep him from retreating. Somehow, he knew that the Sun soldier would run if he had the chance. “You have been nothing but kind to me this whole time and I only saw an enemy. I never gave you a chance. I-I, I was hoping we could start over again. We were friends once, right?”

Friends. An ache bloomed in Keith’s chest and he kept his face carefully neutral. “Yeah, friends. Just forget about it, can I go now?”

“Okay.”

He left Shiro standing there, alone in a foreign land, haunted by the deaths of his people and surrounded those he didn’t know how to trust. Shiro didn’t even know how to trust himself, and Keith didn’t know what to do. He was someone who understood just how alone Keith felt, but being around him only brought pain.

And there was no one for Shiro either.

Keith kept walking, his head hanging low. No matter what decision he made, he ended up hurting himself.

 

* * *

 

 

The village was larger than Hunk’s little home on the beach, though nothing Shiro had ever seen in the Moon Kingdom or the pieces he could remember about the Sun Kingdom. The homes were up on stilts, connected by elaborate woven bridges that swung in the warm breeze. Children chased each other through the buildings, laughing and carefree, trying to catch the sleek striped monkeys that trilled and chittered just out of reach. Shiro found himself smiling, taking deep breaths of the sweet ocean air and turning his face up towards the sun. He’d missed this, even if he couldn’t remember why.

He was dressed in the Island style and feeling awkward, but Hunk strutted proudly in his fine clothes. The warrior had coins hanging from his ears and thick bangles around his wrists, all made of heavy gold. His necklace was more intricate, and a thick sash of the same metal draped across his chest. He wore an open sleeveless vest of deep red that made his adornments shine all the brighter. It looked like his machete was sharpened, too.

Beside him, Lance still looked like a drowned rat, in Keith’s humble opinion. He was humming. Keith vaguely hoped that someone burned his hat.

They were ushered into a small waiting room, a young woman setting a tray of food on a low wooden table and barely escaping before Lance and Hunk fell on it like starving men.

“Oh man, you have to try this. My mom made this coco jam, she’s the best in the whole village. It’ll knock you out, it’s so good.”

“I’m fine.” Shiro sat awkwardly, watching the two stuff their faces with a kind of fascinated awe. “I’m more worried about what to say when we get in there. Do you really think your Queen will help?”

“Of course! She’s the most powerful ruler in this part of the Islands and Hunk is her Chosen Warrior. He can get us in no problem, he’s got a lot of influence around here.” Lance said proudly. “If he puts in a good word with us, she’ll definitely help.”

They all turned to look at Hunk who squirmed a little uncomfortably. “It’s uh, it’s not as important as you think. It’s more of an honorific title than a real one. It does come with a nice outfit though?” He tugged at the end of his vest and grinned proudly. Lance looked at him like he was completely besotted.

“He was picked by the Dragon of Everlasting Sea.” The pirate said smugly, always happy to boast on his best friend’s behalf. “He marks the ones who’ll be the spiritual warriors of their village, he’s been doing it for thousands of years. If Hunk tells the Queen we need help, then you’ll be sure we’ll get it, and we’ll be off.” He leaned against Hunk, bullying himself into the warrior’s arms who seemed embarrassed by the attention.

“Not  _all_  of us,” Hunk reminded gently.

“There are really dragons here?” Keith asked, surprised despite himself.

“It’s not that big a deal. He’s a bit of an asshole and doesn’t really do anything? Really, it’s just a thing. A non-thing, I mean,” Hunk hastened to excuse, flushed almost as deeply red as his headband, but Lance scowled at him. “Besides, it might have been just a really big snake. Or like, a piece of driftwood with a suspicious branch?” The warrior wiggled his arms for affect.

Lance huffed, but Keith cleared his throat, drawing attention back to him before he reached for a bun. 

“All Shiro has to do is explain what we’re doing, right?”

Keith watched the prince carefully. He was smiling again, a warm, winsome expression, and if Keith didn’t know how much brighter it could be, he’d have believed him. Even now, Shiro was so good at putting himself together. It didn’t seem fair.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right there to help you out,” Lance reassured brightly.

“Great.” Keith deadpanned. “What could possibly go wrong?”

They were summoned less than an hour later and Hunk led them to the biggest building in the village, decorated with intricate weavings and shining carvings of protector spirits. He held open the door and Shiro’s eyes widened in surprise. A low fire burned in the center of the room, throwing a flickering light over the brightly colored silks that hung from the walls. A tall woman sat on a cushion on a dais, heavy gold necklaces around her throat and her grey hair bound back with ropes of pearls. Other women sat around her, her court of advisors.

There was something in the steely way she watched them that reminded Shiro of his mother and he offered Queen Alunsina a low bow. “Thank you for speaking with us, your Majesty. We’re honored by your hospitality.” Keith bowed rigidly beside him but Lance winked and waved finger guns at the Queen.

“Hey there, beautiful! Long time no see. You’re just as lovely as always.”

“You still haven’t learned any manners in your time away.” She said calmly and Lance beamed.

“I have a reputation to keep. And I’m actually involved with saving the world these days! Not like that’s unusual, you’re all in good hands.”

Keith almost reached over and punched him, but Hunk beat him to it.

“I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. He’s the worst.” Hunk excused gently, and the Queen offered him a measured smile. It revealed nothing of her thoughts or intentions. Hunk may have faced down dragons, but he still tread more carefully around Queen Alunsina. He cleared his throat. “May I introduce Prince Takashi Shirogane, of the Moon Kingdom.”

He lead his guests to the front of the fire pit where the sweet smell of incense was stronger. They remained standing, but the Queen still towered over them.

“It’s not often we welcome missing princes from missing kingdoms.” She commented smoothly. “And with a member of the Golden Horde. No allegiance of Zarkon’s is welcome here.”

There was a rustle of movement from the shadows, but it was an intentional reveal. Keith’s eyes widened as he noticed the soldiers that lined the room, hidden in the shadows beyond the flickering light of the fireplace. They were outnumbered and would be overwhelmed. Shiro inhaled sharply, but Keith beat him as he moved forward, bowing at the Queen’s feet.

“I pay no respect to a False Emperor, Your Majesty,” Keith said, speech stiff.

“Nor do you pay any to the Prince you travel with.” Her tone was deceptively light, but the Queen read Keith’s little transgression in courtesy for what it was, and the former soldier went red.

It was with much shuffling and embarrassment that he returned to his spot beside Shiro but the prince wouldn’t look at him when he spoke. “With all do respect, Your Majesty, do you have news of my home? It’s been… too long, and the White Lady has always favored the Islands.”

“Your Lady’s distant reach compliments us. It is quaint to know our services to our Gods has delightful someone else’s deity.” She replied smoothly, and Shiro flushed, suitably chastised. “As for your home, it has been many Moons since they opened their ports to outsiders. Once again, the mists of the North Sea are heavy.”

“My mother must have hidden the Kingdom.” Shiro frowned. The mists protected their shores from invaders, but making the entire Moon Kingdom disappear required a great deal of power. His mother wouldn’t have risked a spell like that unless she had no other choice.

“It was a surprise that their missing prince washed up on my shore. Not an accident, I assume.” She gave Lance a pointed look and he had the good grace to squirm. “Especially with Emperor Zarkon at your heels.”

“It’s worse than that.” Lance pipped up, earning a scowl from Hunk. “We have to get him to the Temple of Heaven or the whole world goes _boom_.”

The Queen’s gaze sharpened like she could read Shiro’s soul in the scars across his skin and the silver Galra arm that flickered with a faint purple light. “Our heart goes out to you. We will give you transport to the mainland to help you on your quest and free passage through the islands.”

“That’s it?” Lance was outraged and surged to his feet even as Hunk tried to hold him back. “This is the fate of the world, we need more than just a ship ride! We need troops, supplies, we need  _Hunk_. He’s coming with us, it’s the only way.”

“I know your journey is important, but if we do any more, we will have to face the Sun Kingdom’s wrath. Their armies are too big for us to fight in our own homeland. If Emperor Zarkon is truly searching for you, then you need to leave our islands as quickly as possible. And our Chosen stays, that is his duty to his people.”

“If you don’t help us, you’ll be fighting them anyway!” Keith yelled. He’d gone quiet during the Queen’s explanation, stewing in his own temper but he could only manage for so long. It spilled over, cutting red across his vision. He’d never been good at holding his tongue. “The war is coming to you whether you want it or not! The only difference is whether you fight now or stick your heads in the sand. We already lost-”  
  
He faltered under Queen Alunsina’s cold stare and he was pointedly aware of the presence of an elegant scepter above her head. He didn’t think it was just a decoration. Without thinking, he turned towards Shiro, quietly seeking guidance like a sailor would the northern star.   
  
“Enough.” Queen Alusina didn’t need to raise her voice to demand attention. 

Shiro reached out and grabbed Keith’s arm. The soldier froze at the touch, but Shiro wasn’t even looking at him. “I understand. We show up on your doorstep with an army hunting us down. You have to protect your own people from the Galra first.”

The Queen’s features softened and she smiled at the upstart prince. He was undiplomatic and rash, but earnest. More than that, he clearly had friends willing to risk themselves to see this mission through. Together, they might actually have a chance. “Stay the night as my guests. In the morning, my warriors will see you on your way with whatever we can offer that will help you on your quest. If the Galra coming looking for you, we’ll make sure they can’t follow.”

“Thank you, your Majesty.” Shiro bowed again. “That is very generous and we accept your hospitality.” At a signal from Alusina, the tattooed warriors lined up to escort the guests out.

Hunk waited until his fellow warriors had left them in an elaborately decorated hut covered in plush pillows before rounding on Lance with a scowl. “What the hell was that, bro? You can’t talk to the Queen like that! You’re just lucky the guards didn’t roast you like a fish.”

“Hey, relax! We do this every time, and Sisi’s all about-”

“You don’t disrespect the Queen in her own council, and you don’t go behind my back about things I already made a decision on!”

“What do you mean go behind your back? You were right there for all of it,” The pirate crossed his arms over his chest, stance languid and sullen, but it did nothing to dissuade Hunk.

“Lance!” Hunk hissed between gritted teeth, his brows furrowed, but his expression morphed with frustrated dismay, and with every word he argued, Lance’s heckles rose, his mouth pinching into a thin, unhappy line. “You were trying to go over my head, you were trying to force me to go with you when I already said no!”

“You shouldn’t be staying just because she tells you to!” Lance yelled. “It’s just a job!”

“It’s not like that!”

“Then why, Hunk! Why won’t you be with me?!”

“Because this is my home, these are my people! I’m not going to just abandon them, why don’t you ever understand that?” Hunk fumed. “It’s not all about you but you’re always too self-absorbed to care about what I think. That’s not how best friends should be, Lance.”

“I’m trying to do what’s best for you.” The captain pleaded.

“No, you’re trying to do what’s best for  _you_. You always do this, you think just because you’ve been all over and know so much more than some backwater island boy, that you’re always right. You’re my friend, but they’re my family. If there’s something bad coming to the Islands, I need to keep them safe.”

“But we need help, buddy. This is serious, end of the world big.”

The warrior shook his head. “I could get you any other warrior on the island to go with you. I could get you a whole troop of them, just as highly trained as me if not more. People with more experience, that will help you more than I ever could. If this is as serious as you’re saying, they’ll be the best bet you have to succeeding.”

Lance stared a second before shaking his head so vehemently, the feathers on his hat waved in the breeze. “No, no way. It has to be you.”

“No, you just want it to be me. If you really cared about saving the world and not being selfish, you’d have taken the help.” Hunk clenched his fists, bitter words crowded in the back of his throat. Lance never understood, he saw the world in grand sweeping adventures and he didn’t care about the little details or the time it took to build anything important. He huffed, pushing passed the stunned Captain and out of the hut.

“Hunk. C’mon Hunk. Hey, wait.” Lance bolted after him, leaving the door swinging open. Keith and Shiro looked at each other in the awkward silence.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, the Queen gifted them with clothes of fine silk and abaca, lined at the fringes with gold. Ceremonial bangles and heavy necklaces were part of the gift, almost as important as the chance to be free of prisoner’s clothing. A curved scythe attached to a long chain had been the most impressive offering. It wasn’t from the Moon Kingdom, but it was an almost perfect replica of the weapon Shiro used to carry on pilgrimages.

Yet when Shiro first changed, he was struck dumb. Angry, vicious scars were craved into his flesh. He recognized the faded wounds of combat, but there were deeper cuts and incisions that left behind uneven skin and sickening discoloration.

In the cabin’s ornate mirror, Shiro couldn’t look away from his reflection. There was nothing of the man in the glass that he recognized, and the realization made goosebumps break across his arms. He’d seen the callouses on his hands, but up until that moment, he hadn’t given the rest of him any thought, too distracted by the monstrosity he bore in place of his arm.

“Shiro, you done yet?” Lance called from outside his door. He sounded bored, and Shiro was just noticing how much depth was hidden behind the pirate’s deceptively easy smile. It had cracked during his argument with Hunk. The tattooed warrior hadn’t returned yet, and the cracks only deepened.

“Go ahead without me! I’ll be out soon.”

Even his voice sounded different, mouth molded to fit the syllables of a different language. ‘ _My name is Takashi Shirogane. I want to go home.’_  He whispered in the formal tongue of the Moon Kingdom. His grammar was perfect. His pronunciations were just a little too rounded, too low, too foreign.

He didn’t know how much they’d taken away until he could see it for himself. 

He left the hut with a heavy shawl across his shoulders. The night was warmer than anything he remembered, even with an ocean breeze to stir the air, but he valued the protection.

Though Queen Alunsina had only announced the feast that afternoon, Shiro was greeted by the most masterful spread. The Queen’s courtyard had been thrown open, welcoming all those under her protection. Reedy music filled the air, singing with the night croakers to make new songs. Food was spread out on long banana leaves. Colorful vegetables and hearty stews shared space beside fish fried so thoroughly, you could crunch through its bones. A farrow of young pigs almost as tall as Shiro had been roasted for the occasion, and hung beside mountains of yellow, red and brown rice.

The Queen had her own table at the head of the courtyard. Her husband sat to her right and her concubines at its end. Her court took the rest of the seats, but their honored guests had their own spaces reserved between them.

Shiro had sat through hundreds of fancy state dinners before and should have felt right at home among the sumptuous riches and plates of mouthwatering food. Instead, he felt out of place. A piece that didn’t fit anymore. The woman sitting to his right laughed and touched his elbow, sharing a scoop of rice on his plate with a wide smile. Shiro nodded his thanks, but it was an empty gesture. Everything felt empty these days.

His stomach rumbled painfully and his mouth watered at the smell of roasted pig, like he hadn’t had a good meal in ages. He reached for a piece and stopped, startled by the sight of his metal hand. He kept forgetting it was there, an abomination crafted from silver and Galra magic. With a disgusted sigh, he dropped his hand to his lap and twitched his sleeve down to hide it. Even if he couldn’t remember what happened to him, it was written in every inch of his skin. In some ways, he was glad he couldn’t remember.

Keith caught his eye from across the table, quietly shoveling food into his mouth and deflecting any attempt his neighbors made at conversation. He always seemed to notice him, attention drawn to the young soldier like he was a flickering candle in the dark even when he tried to ignore it. Something tightened in his chest every time he looked at him, confused and angry and hurt without knowing why.

“Time for entertainment!” Queen Alunsina clapped her hands, bangles jingling from her wrists as musicians took up their positions and began to play. The edges of the room blurred as dancers started to whirl, faceless and melting with the music. This wasn’t right, he’d been here before. He knew the touch of silk like liquid against his skin, the heavy weight of chains around his neck. The woman beside him touched his sleeve again, holding out a cup.

“Drink.”

But all Shiro could hear was Sendak’s voice.

He knocked the cup out of her hands and surged to his feet, tripping over the cushions and servants in a frantic need to escape. Voices pressed in around him, but he shoved them away blindly until only the jungle could reach him. The half-moon had risen low on the horizon, the night sky clear and filled with the sound of distant waves lapping at the shore, but Shiro was a thousand miles away, locked in his own mind.

The trees closed in all around him as he struck at monsters he couldn’t touch. It blurred together. Sweat on his tongue. Air aught in his throat. Cruel manacles cutting through his wrists. The flickering, pulsating rush of energy, so bright it cored through his eyes. The screaming, why were they screaming, why wouldn’t they stop screaming? Why wouldn’t they let him stop?

Boiling water splashed across his back, dripping down his legs and sliding down his flank, and Shiro howled. He was bent over a short stool, bound on his arms and knees. They didn’t like it when he cried. They didn’t like it when he stopped.

“Again.” The order came from everywhere at once in a shadowy, sultry whisper, and Shiro had long given up on rebellion. He knew the punishment of begging. The Oath to the Moon was among the first of Her holy rites that he’d ever learned. He would lose his own name before he lost it, and they made him pray now, his voice warbling though every word, but it wouldn’t break. He couldn’t let it break. Smoke clogged his nose, sharp like carrion but sweetened with crushed herbs, and they dug metal into his gut, splitting open flesh inch by inch until Shiro couldn’t take it, until he sobbed.

Hot coals were pressed into the soles of his feet, pushing harder and harder as Shiro writhed in his chains, crying for mercy. Then her talons were gentle, dragging down the side of his face, forcing him to look into the abyss that hid behind her hood. Haggar smiled in her crow’s mask and Shiro’s vision blurred.

_“Again.”_

“Shiro.” Someone was screaming but it sounded like it was coming from a million miles away. “Shiro!”

His arms ached and muscles throbbed but Shiro wouldn’t stop. He needed to get away,he needed to escape. He would never have another chance. They were going to kill him. They were going to kill all of them!

His knees buckled, legs giving out from under him. Shiro was falling, falling, falling.

He never touched the ground.

Strong, steady arms wrapped around him, pulling him close as an unnatural chill swallowed the night. Shiro looked up, tears caught in his lashes as he met Keith’s terrified gaze.

“Stop…”  

The sky faded into mist.

“You’re okay, Shiro.” Gentle hands cupped his face and stroked down his cheeks, helping him focus on what was real. He leaned into Keith’s touch and let the familiar comfort chase away the darkness. He reached for Keith, wrapping his arms around the other man and tried to keep himself from shuddering with each sob.

“I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh, it’s over. We’re safe now.” Keith murmured, brushing his lips over the frantic pulse in Shiro’s neck.

Somehow, he knew this. Somewhere he couldn’t remember, but he trusted in Keith’s arms and the soft promises. He slowly untwisted his fingers from Keith’s shirt, embarrassed as he tried to pull himself back together. “I’m okay, it was just a…a memory, I guess. A bad one.”

Keith didn’t ask for details, just helped Shiro back to his feet and refused to let go. It felt good to be so close again and Shiro didn’t pull away for once. “I’m not going to let them hurt you anymore.”

It was strange, but Shiro almost believed him. He pulled back and looked around, arms tightening reflexively around Keith. “Uh, where are we?”

The warm tropical night was gone, replaced with a misty plain that stretched out endlessly in all directions. Overhead, the stars seemed almost close enough to touch in swirling colorful galaxies that Shiro had never seen before. There was no moon, just the field of stars and the slow circling dance of the universe. Small motes of light danced between the long stalks of grass, small trilling spirits that sang out to each other as clear as glass bells.

“I don’t know.”

They pulled apart, hands still clasped tight as they stared out in wonder. A silver glow clung to Shiro’s skin like the barest shimmer of the moon, but Keith’s remained dark.

The grass parted as if rippled by a breeze, something long and sinuous slithering unseen. It circled around the pair before a dragon reared its head up high above them, blue scales sparkling like sunlight on the ocean and long beard floating in the breeze. The two men screamed.

“Geez!” The dragon flinched back, coiling back in on itself. “I was just checking on you two, now I think I’m going deaf. Thanks a lot. I mean, I know I’m pretty stunning and all, but you didn’t have to shriek about it.”

Keith reached for his machete, and a graceful tail swatted it lazily out of his hand. The dragon wrinkled its long snout. “Stupid noodle head.”

“Wha-” Shiro reeled back, trying and failing to pick his jaw up off the floor. “ _Lance?”_

“Uh? Who else do you know is this awesome?”

“You’re a dragon?!” Keith yelled, and even Shiro flinched at that. The former soldier was immediately apologetic, gently rubbing up the other man’s arm, and moonlight flared where he touched. 

The bearded dragon sent him a long, thoroughly unimpressed stare and blew a smoke circle into his face. “Yeah? I literally told you so. Multiple times.”

“No you never-”

“We traveled thousands and thousands of miles of sea in literally one night.”

“Look that’s not-”

“We didn’t have a boat! You sank my boat! I’m still not okay about that.” He poked Shiro in the chest with the tip of his long feathery tail, and nearly knocked Shiro over. Keith  _snarled._

“Don’t you touch him.” It was an order with too much malice, and for a moment, everyone went still. Then Lance let out a long, put-upon sigh.

“This is what I get for being nice. Historically, humans and the Spirit World don’t mix, even exceptional ones.” He leered at Shiro. His eyes were as endless as the oceans, and the priest-prince started fidgeting. “Watch out for bucket heads on flying lions. This one guy I knew was a real asshole.”

“Hey, everyone just calm down.” Shiro put himself between Keith and the dragon. The dragon smiled a fanged grin before collapsing in on itself in a shower of iridescent scales, leaving the smug pirate standing in the tall grass. He swept his hat off and bowed.

“Welcome to the Spirit World, your highness. Based on the way you’re glowing, you probably ripped a hole right through. I just about fell in after you. You’ll have to be more careful next time.” Lance said, crossing his arms and leaning back to look around. “I’ve never seen this part of it before, you’ve really got a flare for the dramatic, Your Moonness.”

“Shut up, treat him with respect!” Keith spat, but a gentle touch from Shiro had him swallowing the rest of his insults.

“I’ve never done this before, I don’t know how it happened. Maybe it was an accident, I was…upset.” Shiro looked guilty. “Is there a way to get out of here?”

“It’s back through the way you came, Prince Shiro.” A new voice cut in, something infuriatingly familiar though he couldn’t place it. A soft glow bloomed like a newborn star, taking the shape of a beautiful dark-skinned woman in lacquered armor. “You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you.”

“Princess!” Lance cried out, the same time Keith yelled, “Allura! I thought you were dead.”

“Not quite yet.” She smiled, but exhaustion lined its edges. “But it’s comforting to know that neither are any of you.”

Shiro was stunned silent, trying to put into words what about the newcomer had stolen his voice. The Spirit World stripped its visitors bare of all facades, an in the ethereal glow that followed her, Allura looked like she was closer to the immortal dragon than either he or Keith. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“Princess Allura of Heaven.” She bowed politely, and Shiro hastened to comply, quietly chastising himself for his slip in courtesy. As soon as it slipped, he realized it was a strange thought. He just didn’t know how long he’d been out of practice. Beside him, Keith was mouthing _‘of Heaven?!’_

“And by my count, I’ve rid the capital of all the Galra’s druids. They’re hot on my trail.”

Keith stiffened, looking down the long lines of space for a sign of ill magic, but Allura shook her head. “Don’t worry. The Spirit World isn’t the most hospitable of places. They won’t follow me here.” 

“Thank you for all your help, Princess.” Shiro said humbly. “Does this mean you’re traveling with us to the Temple?”

“If you do, that’d be a load off my mind. I don’t know how to get there.” Lance snorted, and Shiro shot him an almost suspicious glance. “What? It’s a Temple that goes to  _Heaven._  Up there. I’m strictly an ocean guy.”

“You’re strictly a useless guy.” Keith muttered as Shiro stepped forward towards the Princess. She smiled at him, holding out her hand to gently touch the side of his face.

“I was supposed to be your guide, Prince Shiro, but I underestimated the Druids. I’m afraid you’ll have to make this journey on your own. I will do what I can to protect you and return my guardians to meet you at the Temple. We’ve been dealt a great blow that I will not allow to go unchallenged.” She swallowed thickly, but raised her chin in a regal angle. “But you must arrive before the next equinox.” 

“Why then?” Shiro thought the mission was hard enough without a deadline. How were they supposed to find a place none of them had ever been to before the end of summer?

“Because that is most likely when Zarkon will storm Heaven.” Allura said. “The roads between Heaven and Earth are shortest then, and he means to lead an invasion.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand what you want me to do. I think you’ve got the wrong person.” Shiro held out his hand and the metal caught in the unearthly glow. “I’m not even human anymore.”

“You are the Scion of the Moon, you’re the last one who can perform the ritual at the temple.” Allura seemed almost sad. “Zarkon has thrown earth into chaos by destroying the Sun’s bloodline, you’re the one thing left that can set it right before he has a chance to corrupt Heaven too. The temple will guide you to the gates to Heaven itself.”

Shiro rubbed his hand against his forehead. This was all so much. A desperate scramble to some hidden temple, finding gods that walked the earth, beating back Zarkon and saving the entire world? He could barely hold his own thoughts together, how was he supposed to do any of this? All he wanted was to go back home where everything made sense again. “I-I don’t know if I can do this.”

“It has to be you, Prince Shiro. You have to find a way.”

Shiro bowed his head, feeling the weight of the world crushing down on him. He’d trained his entire life to serve his people. What had to be done would always outweigh his own wants. The world was so much more than one man. The Galra had ruined him, they’d taken everything he’d ever had, ground him into the dirt and beat him into even less, but Shiro could make sure they never got the chance to hurt anyone like they hurt him. He could prove there was still something good left inside himself. ****

“I will do everything in my power to stop him.”

“You won’t have to go alone.” Keith said, stepping closer. “I’m with you.”

Shiro smiled, relief breaking across his features in such honest waves that Keith had to look away. The Spirit World was strange and enchanted, everything felt too muted or too bright and all at once, but Keith swore he could feel Shiro’s warmth against his side, and it was a feeling he’d missed terribly for so long.

Beside them, Lance sighed and flexed his hand. “Fine, but how do we actually get there?”

Allura sighed right back at him. “Keith, if you will, do you still have the Empress’s compass?”

“Yeah?” Keith reached for his pocket but Allura had frozen, eyes fixed on a distant horizon and horror in every line of her body.

“You have to go!” She turned her panicked gaze on the three young men in front of her.

“Awww, c’mon, Princess.” Lance said, trying his best to be suave. “We just got here, you can’t go before you tell us what’s-”

“GO!” Her voice rolled across the plains, stars blazing a blinding white overhead as something unseen sent them stumbling backwards in the grass. Shiro reached for something to hold on, grabbing Lance and Keith to shield them as they hit the ground.

Soft soil broke their fall and he blinked open his eyes, looking up at a night sky that seemed so much farther away than they’d been a moment ago. The warm ocean breeze was back, air still heavy with the smell of smoke and the lingering scents of cooked meats. “W-what happened?”

A howl split the night, an inhuman sound that shook the earth beneath them and echoed out of the shadows. Lance was the first one to recover, scrambling up in a shower of dirt as he bolted back towards the village. 

“HUNK!”

They were too late. The village was burning. People scattered, trying to pick each other up, terrified of leaving the dead and dying behind but more terrified of staying. Blackened buildings splintered under the heat of flames and collapsed on each other. It was chaos. In the center of it, Hunk lead of team of warriors against a monster.

It was a terrifying beast, over fifteen feet tall with thick, blistered skin that was covered in a rough hide. Etchings were carved into its skin, jagged and uneven as if with a blunt knife. Fangs filled its mouth, cutting through thin lips. Its tusks were charred and burned black, splintered at the edges, and its lone eye gleamed with unnatural crimson light.

“Go for the ears!” Hunk bellowed, but tension knotted in his chest, tightened into the unyielding shape of a pebble, just sharp enough to remind him of its presence every time he moved. He’d seen the cyclopes of the eastern islands before, but none of them looked like this. The beast had been changed, twisted and mutilated into something stronger, deadlier. Their regular strategies weren’t working.

The monster picked up one of Hunk’s men, just missing Hunk by inches, and his heart stopped in his chest.

“Luansing!”

Before his eyes, his friend was ripped him in half, spraying the ground in gore and Hunk sobbed. Then Lance was there, and with a brave war cry he tried to drive his sword into the beast’s arm. It was like trying to slice through a tree. The rest of the group wasn’t far behind.

“Keith! You take its left, I’ll take its right.” Shiro ordered, holding his chained scythe and ready to attack, but his knees felt weak. It was like no demon he’d ever sensed before. There was magic that rolled off of its skin, sick and cloying like smoke. And painfully familiar. “If I can distract it, go for its blind spot. We need to get these people a chance to evacuate!”

This was some kind of half-remembered nightmare, he’d seen a creature like this before. He’d fought one for his life, but it had been so much smaller. Shiro dodge just as a clawed hand slammed into the sand where he’d been standing. He forced his frozen muscles to move, circling back to get behind the beast. They said he’d used powerful magic to turn back an entire navy, but he didn’t know how to summon the power when he needed it. The only thing he could rely on was himself.

He had won before, they had to win again before the entire village was lost.

Hunk was dragging a wounded warrior out of the immediate fight, carefully handing her to one of the fleeing villagers, but even as he turned away, the image of her crushed leg lingered in his eyes. “Shiro, guys! You have to get its ears! That’ll leave it better than blind.”

Shiro nodded sharply and swung his scythe over his head, letting it fly to bury deep in the thick skin of the cyclops’s back. It wasn’t deep enough to cause any damage but he wasn’t trying to hurt the creature. He used the scythe as a handhold, vaulting up the cyclops towards the monster’s head and holding on tightly to dark, greasy hair as it bucked beneath him. He pressed his hand against the cyclops’s skull, metal arm sparking with violet power chased with silver as he mumbled a prayer.

The sound of angry buzzing filled the monster’s head and the cyclops roared, stumbling back as it swatted at its invisible attackers.

Keith moved like a dancer as he hacked at the cyclops’s feet to keep him off balance. Until the beast got lucky, catching Shiro by the shoulder and throwing him into Keith. They tumbled through the dirt, each landing like a punch through the lungs before they collapsed. Shiro’s scythe swinging limply in its side. Shiro groaned, doubled over as he cradled his hand to his chest. It glowed with an unnatural power, and for a moment, his eyes stung.

“You okay?” Keith groaned from the general vicinity of his elbow. Shiro rolled off of him, and didn’t really have a way to answer that.

The monster charged at them. Only to be smacked in the face by a sharpened spear. It thundered, and rounded on the culprit, coming face to face with Hunk. The warrior stood his ground, baring his teeth as he swayed just out of the creature’s reach. “Come on, ugly! D'you wanna piece of this?! I really hope you’re a vegetarian.”

A bellowing roar answered him, and suddenly Hunk took off running. He was a weaving, bobbing lure, taunting the beast whenever it slowed down, and across the sky, a mystical beast wailed in torment.

“Hunk!”

“I’m leading it down to the beach! Get everyone out!” Hunk yelled as loud as he could, rushing into the jungle and narrowly avoid tripping over a tree root. His heart was hammering in his chest. He’d never been so scared in all his life. The trees were so thick, barely any moonlight could find him, and he rushed blindly through the outskirts of his home with only the faintest sense of where he was going.

The thing lumbered after him, smashing through the forest as he led it away from the village. There were already too many dead and the flickering lights of the fires stained the sky an ugly red. He was their protector, chosen from birth for the position and trained his entire life among the warriors. Everyone was counting on him and he had let them down. He couldn’t let anyone else get hurt, not because he was their Chosen Warrior, but because they were his family.

He hefted another spear, throwing it with the entire weight of his body and watching it pierce the thick skin to lodge in the cyclops’s shoulder. It snarled in rage, plucking it from its skin and snapping it in half easily. The pebble in his chest had turned into a stone, but he wasn’t alone.

“Get it out on the sand! Don’t let it go back to the village!” He yelled at the others who followed his lead.

Shiro and Keith fought like mirror images, moving in sync as they drove the beast on. Keith darted forward to attack, Shiro to defend, his arm glowing purple as he blocked and slashed the cyclops’s clumsy attack. Great gouts of water burst from the sea as Lance called the ocean to obey, battering the cyclops with crushing blows.

“Shiro, we could use a big magical storm right now!” He called out but the Prince only snarled.

“I told you I don’t know how to do that!”

It wasn’t enough. Whatever the Galra had done to the beast, it was stronger than anything he’d seen in the islands. Hunk watched in horror as it angrily stomped its massive feet, sending Shiro and Keith tumbling to the ground, clutching at its head in agony before it tore off its massive ears. It screamed and lashed out, plucking Lance up from the water and shaking him so hard that the pirate went limp.

They were losing.

Hunk could feel panic rattling in his chest, burning hotter and hotter, crushing him from the inside out. Warrior’s instinct telling him the ties of battle had shifted. They didn’t have to win, he tried to remind himself. They just had to distract it long enough for the village to escape. He tried to remain steady, dodging a meaty, powerful fist as he tried to get to his best friend, but the stone turned into a boulder and it grew heavier with every passing second.

All he did was irritate the beast, and the cyclops howled, raising Lance above its head, holding him by an arm and leg and ready to  _pull._

“NO!”

Suddenly Hunk reached down, drawn by a force that rattled in his very bones. It came from within him and around him, stilling even the night breeze that came too close. His eyes flared white. It was strength like he’d never known, power like he’d never tasted. It was destiny. With a deafening yell, he pulled up his fist and the ground went with him, carving open a crevice in the earth that tripped the disoriented monster. It landed in soft sands that came together, burying it alive. Like a shadow, Shiro slid across the beach, grabbing Lance just in time to save him from being dragged down, and the earth trembled around them.

Then it was all over. Thick, black blood spilled across the beach, bubbling up from the new grave. Hunk was the only one still standing.

“Lance,” he breathed, stumbling forward, and Shiro’s expression was heartbreaking. Hunk fell to his knees beside him. Somewhere in the distance, Keith hobbled closer. Hunk couldn’t care, not when Lance was so terrifyingly still.

Then the sea dragon coughed, shaking himself awake with a bleary smile. Before Hunk could reply, he found himself with an armful of his best friend and they toppled into the dirt with a loud sob. “I knew you could do it, buddy,” Lance whispered, his face pressed into the curve of Hunk’s throat, lips just brushing against his pulse, and Hunk sobbed.

It had been a long night.

The fires burned long into the morning as the survivors staggered back into their ruined village, the wailing of grief and loss drowning out the snap of smoldering embers. They helped where they could, but it was clear they’d caused enough trouble. Shiro’s metal arm gleamed with a faint power, drawing more of Zarkon’s twisted creatures after them. This was all his fault and the longer they stayed, the more the Islanders would suffer.

Hunk worked with the other warriors to clear away the charred wood from fallen buildings and tending to the wounded. He wouldn’t even let Lance pull him away to rest, exhausted and afraid of the power that had swallowed the cyclops whole, but refusing to think about anything but his family. He only stopped when Alunsina put a gentle hand on his shoulder, murmuring quiet words to her Chosen and cupping Hunk’s face to wipe away the tears.

“Go,” the queen whispered, her dress still stained with her husband’s blood, and her fingers covered in dirt and ash. Everyone came together to rebuild their home. “The best way to protect us is to save us all, and make sure this darkness never finds our home again.”

He sniffed, giving her a salute before letting Lance finally wrap his arms around him in a hug. “We need to leave before there’s another attack. All of us.”

As Hunk walked away from his home, he sent one final prayer to the sea, and a promise that he would return some day.


	13. Chapter 13

“Hey, are you awake?”

Keith watched Shiro tense, his hand twitching towards the chained scythe he kept by his side, but the prince relaxed before his eyes opened. Sweat dotted his brow, and his shoulders still trembled with leftover adrenaline. In the moonlight, he looked sickly pale, like he was crafted of cobwebs and shadow. It had to have been another nightmare. Keith couldn’t help but notice how frequently they came, as if Shiro didn’t have any good memories to get him through the night. ”It’s your watch.”

They’d been traveling for days now, but the jungles of the Islands never felt entirely safe. Queen Alunsina hadn’t been able to give them the safe passage to the mainland like she promised, but their pouches were still heavy with supplies that the village could spare in their recovery. They were far north of Hunk’s home, and rested in the open spaces between the roots of a tree, in a living cavern that was tall enough to stand in.

Shiro scrubbed a hand over his face, quietly shaking himself and something in Keith’s belly twisted. “Just go back to sleep.” He grunted.

“No… No, it’s okay. I just need a minute.” Shiro insisted, but his voice was gravel-rough. “Would you…” He licked his lips, still looking small and hurt, and Keith was too tired for this now. Dawn was still hours away, but there was only a whisper’s breadth between them. “Stay?”

Keith didn’t know he was holding his breath until he let out a tired exhale. He turned away too quickly. “I’ll wake Lance.”

“Like Hell you will.” 

Half way across camp, the pirate captain complained on cue. “I just got to bed. Do your own shift.”

“Hey I literally just got back. You’re a thousand years old. You can spare a few hours.”

“I need my beauty sleep or I’ll end up looking like you.”

“What’s  _that_  supposed to mean?”

“It means-”

“It’s okay, I’ll take it.” A soft murmur stopped them both mid-argument, and they turned to watch Hunk pull himself up. His eyes were blood-shot and gaze distant, but he didn’t spare them a glance before making his way towards a ledge made of low-hanging branches to start his watch.

Lance was moving before Keith could get his bearings. “I’ll go with you.”

The dragon scrambled up after his friend, their soft murmured conversation barely audible. Shiro rubbed his hand against his forehead, trying to purge the lingering nightmare from his mind. It clung to his skin like a film, the ghosts of hands that weren’t his own, a lingering pain he couldn’t explain, something soft and tacky between his nails. Every new memory was worse than the last and he felt scraped raw. He surged up to his feet, wobbling in exhaustion.

“Shiro?”

The phantom touch changed and gentled into a caress, sweet and demanding. The crush of weight, the drag of wet lips across his body, the shiver as he surrendered willingly with a wheezing laugh. The memory was so strong that it struck like a blow and Shiro’s arm flared a sickly purple as he lurched out to the darkened edge of the camp. He didn’t go far beyond the dying ring of light from their half-buried campfire before he slumped against a root, cradling his metal arm to his chest and sliding down to his knees. He ached with a loss so acute he couldn’t breathe.

Keith watched Shiro before he forced himself to make his bed, turning his back on the Prince.  _The Prince_ , not his Shiro. He couldn’t let himself make that mistake again, he wouldn’t survive losing him twice. He had to have limits, but listening to Shiro stifle a sigh still made his heart skip.

Above the camp, Lance tucked himself against Hunk’s side. It was hard to keep himself awake when his best friend was just so comfortable. “You doing okay?”

“Mm.” Hunk grunted. “The prince doesn’t look so good. Should we be worried?”

“He’ll be okay for now. What about you, bro?” Lance slipped his hand into Hunk’s giving it a squeeze. “You know I never wanted it to happen like this. I wouldn’t have come if I thought that we could have brought something so dangerous back to the island. I, I would never have risked you.”

Hunk was quiet for a long time, staring out into a jungle that struggled to be even slightly familiar. He was right beside Lance, but it felt like he was a world away, and all the melancholy Lance felt out on the open sea came back. He’d gotten everything he ever wanted, his best friend with him on a grand adventure, but this still felt more like a curse than a wish fulfilled.

“Did you know?” Hunk whispered. “That I could do that. That’s why you wanted me on this trip and only me.”

There wasn’t an easy answer to that, but Hunk read too much in his best friend’s silence. His  _best friend._  Was that even possible? People used to tease him about it, how he was so besotted with the Southern Sea Dragon, the Dragon of the Everlasting Sea, Feared and Renowned Pirate Captain Lance, and every other name he picked up on his travels. It had always been a point of satisfaction that somehow he’d managed to keep a best friend who was so special when no one else would’ve looked twice at Hunk, if not for his coveted title.

“Is that why you chose me?”

Hunk hated feeling this way. He’d thought he’d left it behind, made peace with his insecurities when he was younger. They were ugly and unfair and complicated. Lance had unintentionally defined so much of his personality, and Hunk thought that didn’t matter, because Lance liked him for who he was. To know that he’d only stuck around because he could get something from Hunk felt like betrayal.

Lance tightened his grip. He was always so deceptively strong. It used to comfort Hunk.

“I always knew you were capable of great things. I chose you because I’m terrified and you’re my best friend. There’s no one else I would’ve chosen to save the world with.” Lance whispered, and when Hunk leaned in, he was there to support him. “Especially since I’m stuck with two other weirdos.”

That earned a small sad chuckle from Hunk and Lance reveled in the sound. He gathered Hunk into his arms, rubbed circles in the warrior’s back like he was tracing the whorls in his skin. The guilt was thick on his tongue but he focused on his friend’s pain. Whatever he felt paled in comparison to what Hunk must be going through.

“I can’t hear the ocean.” Hunk said quietly and Lance’s heart broke.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I’ll make sure you get home again. I’m not going to lose you.” He was brave enough to kiss Hunk’s shoulder, but not to push any farther. There was too much grief and everything he offered was simple comfort. They were going to go home again and Lance would spend the rest of his life making up for hurting Hunk so badly, they just had to save the world first.

Easy.

It didn’t take long for Hunk to quietly drift off and Lance let him, sleep the best thing to heal the wounds of his heart. How were they supposed to save everyone if they were already falling apart?

In the morning, Keith was up with the dawn stretching through his prayer forms and Hunk cooked breakfast over the low burning coals. No one spoke about what had happened the night before, each person quietly going about their tasks. Lance couldn’t stand it.

“Okay, look. I know everything kind of sucks balls right now, but everything’s better with breakfast!” Lance wagged his eyebrows. “I’ve got the tastiest meat.”

A dumpling smacked against Lance’s face and left a smear of oil as he squawked indignantly. Even Shiro had to laugh and it broke the lingering tension and grief that had followed them since the Islands.

They laughed too long and too loud. Sticky-fingered Hunk wouldn’t stop, and Lance glared at all of them until he picked the dumpling off the ground and plopped it into his mouth. Then they were howling.

As they packed up to leave, Shiro stopped Hunk and commandeered his share of the supplies for himself, slinging it over his right shoulder. Then Keith scoffed and stole half of them from Shiro, daring the prince to take it back with a quirked grin.

It was the best morning they’d had in a long time. 

They started their trek through the jungle. Their main objective was to get back to the main land, and there was an international trading port at the north where they thought they could secure passage.

Bird song followed them wherever they went. The jungle was alive with it and chattering monkeys, rustling leaves, and croaking frogs. Jungle flowers may have been poisonous, but they left the air smelling sweet and fresh. Almost too sweet, and Shiro wrinkled his nose, trying to fight the inevitable.

He sneezed like an affronted elephant, and nearly fell over.

“You alright there, your Moonyness?” Lance snarked. “Don’t let the Grey Cough get you, or we’ll never get to the Temple. Fuck mosquitoes.”

Shiro would’ve brushed it off, but beside him, Keith was staring with eyes so wide, Shiro could see a ring of white around his warm brown. He followed his stare, brows furrowed, and stopped midstep, Lance’s hat was _aggressively_  pink. When the pirate turned to glare at them, it glittered.

They muffled a laugh, struggling to keep a straight face as Lance glanced at them suspiciously before turning to stomp through the jungle. They had no idea where they were going, but Lance had done his best to appoint himself navigator, claiming that as a sea Captain, he could chart their way by the position of the sun. Keith had his doubts, especially as Lance almost face planted into a giant mud puddle.

Shiro squinted at Lance’s back, wiggling his fingers with a shine of silver and Lance’s hat bloomed in a riot of giant flowers. Hunk gasped out loud and Lance whirled around, glaring. “ _What?”_

“Nothing, bro.” Hunk said, slinging an arm around Lance’s shoulder and giving Shiro a wink. “You’re just looking extra handsome today.”

“Yeah.” Shiro deadpanned. “It’s like you’re really blooming today. But we should get ready to leaf in a lily bit. We have a lot of ground to clover.”

Keith just stared at the prince as if he’d lost his mind. It had been so long since he’d seen Shiro laugh that he’d almost forgotten the warm feeling in his chest. Oh god, Shiro really had the lamest sense of humor. The last time he’d seen him smile like this, Shiro had been bathed in early morning light asleep on their bed in the barracks a lifetime ago. That man had been replaced by a prince with a wild uncontrolled power to tear apart a giant beast or sink a navy. A terrifying, angry, broken stranger that wore the face of someone who didn’t know him.

Shiro wiggled his fingers again, changing the flowers to a mass of small chirruping birds as Lance finally noticed, waving his hat around and shrieking.

Keith’s heart ached for this Shiro,  _his_  Shiro. One that didn’t remember him anymore. He was still there beneath the dark smudges under his eyes and the deep, ragged scars that peeked out from his collar and sleeves. It hurt to see the ghosts of the man Keith used to love.

“Dude, I don’t want to ruffle any feathers, but I hate it wren that happens.” Hunk said, earning a high five from Shiro. Lance scoffed, yanking the flapping hat down over his ears.

“You’re just jealous I can actually pull this off.”

Then the hat tried to fly off his head, and they lost it, falling on top of each other until tears came, and nothing Lance could do would get them to stop.

“Enough, enough!” The pirate swatted at Hunk’s arm and trying to elbow his way between him and Shiro, mouth turned down so low his entire jaw looked like a frown. He waved his hat in Shiro’s face until the tearful prince changed it back, and primly huffed. “I want you to know that I hate you all.”

“Aww, bro,” Hunk wheezed, dragging him in with a heavy hand, tucking him up against his side. He pressed a noisy smacking kiss to the side of Lance’s head, and promised, “I love you, too.”

“Careful Lance. You’re looking a little pink. Don’t let the Grey Cough get you,” Shiro said, his tone deceptively bright, and Lance grumbled all the way through the jungle.

Until he fell into a river.

Or he would’ve, if Hunk hadn’t grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back into his arms.

“Huh.” Hunk said. “Well, you took us north.”

The river stretched out before them, too wide for them to cross and full of dangerously hidden currents beneath its calm surface. There was no bridge in either direction, and the travelers watched as the water snaked unimpeded through the rolling green hills, the lush jungle crowded right up to its edge like it was trying to spill into the water.

“Just great.” The good mood was soured as Keith huffed in irritation. “Do you think that we could find a town or something? They might have a bridge or ferry to get us across.”

Shiro frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know, we’re not sure which direction to go, it could take us days out of our way and we might not get anywhere. We don’t have time to waste if Zarkon is sending more monsters after us.”

“Hey wait. Lance is a dragon!” Keith said excitedly, revealing the Captain’s secret and pointing an accusing finger. 

Hunk just looked from him to Lance, then back to Keith. “Yeah? I mean, he did tell you guys that. I’m confused, are we pretending to be surprised?” Keith’s jaw dropped and he struggled to regain his composure with an annoyed glare.

“I  _mean_ , he could carry us across the river. He did bring us across the ocean, one river should be nothing. In fact, why don’t we just make him carry us the whole way, he’ll be better as a horse than anything.”

“Dude, you can’t just ask someone to carry you across the world.” Hunk defended Lance with a frown, only to poke the pirate in the ribs a second later and whisper, not as quietly as he intended, “Hey bro, would you mind just like carrying us for a little bit? Not super far or anything. Or! Or you can do that water thing you do? Like  _prr-spooshh!”_

“What.”

“You know, when you make the water rise up and  _spoooosh!”_

“Hunk, come on. Don’t pester him.” Shiro interrupted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Besides, it’s more like  _shpsheeew. Shhh-pshew!_ ”

“No.” Lance growled, and the storm clouds over his head darkened when Hunk bumped shoulders with the prince. “I’m not taking you dweebs anywhere. You’ve got legs. Use them.”

“Lance, come on, it’ll save us time.” Hunk tried to reason. “We don’t even have to go all the way to the mainland, just to port.”

“I already said-”

“Quit being an asshat about it, and get us out of here!” Keith snapped. “You’re the one who got us here in the first place.”

“Really? ‘Cuz I seem to remember  _you_  being the one who dragged me into this. I was just supposed to drop you off somewhere, not have you sink my ship, bring a monster to Hunk’s village, and have you drag me away from home to save the world.” Lance rounded on Keith, toe to toe and snarling. He might have been a dragon, but the soldier was unintimidated and glared right back.

“You think any of us really wanted to be here? Saving the world didn’t sound exactly like how I wanted to spend my time, I had a plan! I had everything and now I’ve got nothing, so how about you get off your lazy ass and do something about it?” He hissed as Lance swept his hat off his head and gave Keith a hard shove.

Keith snapped, punching Lance hard in the solar plexus. He didn’t have supernatural strength, but he’d trained for a lifetime and Lance always did like to think of himself as more of a lover than a fighter. The dragon wheezed, hauling back for a return blow as Keith dropped into a fighting stance, but Shiro forced his way between them.

“Enough, you two!”

“Tell that to him.” Lance gasped, still trying to catch his breath. “If he wasn’t such a failure with Allura’s compass, maybe we’d even be there by now. The one thing he’s supposed to do, and he can’t even get that right!”

Shiro caught Keith’s punch with his palm, sensing the attack as if by instinct. His metal hand closing around Keith’s before he could strike his target. “Stop.”

The soldier jerked away, giving Shiro a betrayed look as he turned his back on them both.

Lance snarled, and for a moment, he seemed to have too many teeth before storming off angrily, his hat swinging in his fist. Hunk grimaced, reaching out to squeeze Shiro’s left arm before he offered, “Just give him a chance to cool down, and then I’ll talk to him.”

Shiro looked from Hunk to Keith, who stubbornly refused to acknowledge any of them. He swallowed down a sigh, but it took all of his effort. Just like that their easy camaraderie had faded. Shiro still didn’t understand what had bothered Lance so much, and there was always the possibility that it was the messenger rather than the message that had set him off. “Let me try,” Shiro offered with a strained smile. “If I mess up too badly, you can give it a shot.”

“Thanks, dude.” Hunk tried to tease, but it was a halfhearted effort at best. Shiro could feel him watching as he walked away.

It took longer than he expected to find Lance. The dragon left nary a branch out of place down the forest, but Shiro found him on a flat rock, overlooking the river.

When he caught up to him, Lance snapped, growling out words with too many sharp syllables in a language that Shiro had no way of understanding. Then he turned with an angry glint in his eye, and switched back to the Sun Kingdom’s chipped slang. “You should’ve sent Hunk.”

“He’s my back up.” Shiro shrugged, and Lance snorted, throwing a pebble into the river and creating a splash that was disproportionately large for it. He didn’t move away when Shiro took a seat beside him.

“How can you stand him?” He snapped. “The angry, frustrating  _brat_. We’re already carrying him, and now he wants more? You know what I’m talking about. He gets on your case more than mine.”

Shiro looked back towards where Hunk hovered worriedly behind Keith and a small smile curled across his lips. “Our people have been fighting each other for ages and when I first met him, I thought the same way you did. But, he’s grown on me somehow.” More than that. Shiro didn’t have words for the sharp way it hurt every time he heard Keith laugh or the way his heart thudded against his ribs when Keith accidentally brushed against him. It was strange and disquieting, there was something  _missing,_  but he couldn’t find the answers to write in all the blanks.

Lance looked less than impressed. “I’m pretty sure that’s what mold does too, doesn’t mean you want to be friends with it.”

“I don’t think this is about Keith.”

They sat in silence, watching a heron pick its graceful way long the muddy banks of the river, searching for its next meal. It was a beautiful if lonely spot, so unlike the Sun Kingdom with its glittering capital or crowded port cities, teeming with people from all over the world. Shiro paused for a moment, wondering how he knew something like that when he’d never been outside of the Moon Kingdom before.

Another rock plunked into the river and the dragon sighed. “Okay, maybe him being stupid isn’t the only problem.”

“It’s been a rough couple of days for all of us, I understand if you need some time.” Shiro said gently, but Lance hugged his narrow knees and pulled his hat down lower over his head.

“It’s not that, it’s just…the dragon thing. It takes a lot of energy to do it outside the Spirit World and I don’t like doing it. I only did it before because you were going to drown. This is different.”

Shiro watched him carefully, reading the tension in his body. “Because Hunk is here?”

“Because it’s dangerous.” Lance said. There was a gravity in his voice that gave Shiro pause, but the dragon still wasn’t looking at him. “There is a power in it, a strength that comes with… You have no idea what it’s like to be like this.” 

Lance looked at the back of his hand, smooth and soft not unlike what the prince’s used to be like. Yet Lance lived a hard life out at sea, for longer than what any human could manage. He closed his hand into a fist and a thick ripple of water rose out of the river, forming a perfect sphere in midair. “This form, this skin, how restraining it is. You will never understand the freedom of being in your element, the overwhelming truth of surrendering to the oceans. Even when you humans are surrounded by the sea, it pales in comparison. It’s a constant fight to resist temptation, and unlike the Spirit World, there’s so little magic here, my true form is such a  _relief._ When we’re there, it’s natural. Humans are the ones struggling to keep up in the Spirit World, you’re the ones who slip and let time carry you away. Here, it’s me. _”_  
  
Ever since Shiro had met him, Lance had been a ripple of motion, dancing and shifting at the slightest breeze. Now he was too still, and for the first time, Shiro was glad he couldn’t meet Lance’s eyes. “A dragon’s blink can last a human’s lifetime. It is so easy to get lost when I use that much power in this world… I don’t always come back in time.”   
  
"Then why?” Shiro couldn’t help but ask, struck by the regret in the immortal’s voice. He gestured to Lance’s everything, his bony elbows and gangly legs. “Why would you ever…?”  
  
Lance looked up then. His face was a blank slate, drained of emotion and utterly cold like carved stone. Shiro held his breath because he thought he could finally see the lines around where the dragon’s mask formed. Then Lance smiled, and the illusion broke. He was a young man again, too loud and too arrogant and overly invested in his poofy hat. “Why do you think?”

“You love him.” It was more a statement than a question and Lance curled back into himself, all the confirmation anyone needed.

“Have you ever been in love before?”

The question threw Shiro and he stuttered over what should have been a simple response. He’d loved in his life, but he’d never been in love. Not really, and yet- The answer stuck in his throat, a half-formed truth that felt more like a lie. “No.”

Lance couldn’t keep from looking over towards Hunk, something vulnerable and lonely in his eyes. “He’s human and I’m not, you don’t know what that’s like. If I change back to my real form, what if I don’t change back until it’s too late and he’s gone? What if he’s afraid of me? What if he stops looking at me like I’m his friend and sees me as something not human anymore? He just lost his home because of me, he can’t lose me, too.”

“He’s not going to lose you, Lance. There has to be a way to control it, you changed shape to save us once before.”

“It was a last resort.” He rested his chin in his knees, voice muffled. “I couldn’t let you die and I was lucky that I didn’t get distracted. But please don’t ask me to do this in front of him. There has to be another way, Shiro, please.”

“Alright.” Shiro clasped Lance on the shoulder. “We’ll figure this out somehow that doesn’t involve you changing shape. But I think you should tell him, Lance. I know he cares about you and if you’re this worried about losing him or having him see you like that, just talk to him. Maybe he feels the same way?”

Lance laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “If I do that, it won’t matter. I have to watch him die anyway.”

The dragon drifted off, lost in his own thoughts, but eventually, he leaned into Shiro and nodded his head. They rose together, and made their way back to the rest of their group. The closer they got, the easier it was to see Hunk dancing on the balls of his feet. Lance might not have wanted to confess his feelings, but Shiro thought the way he lit up when he was around Hunk said enough. The pirate launched himself at his best friend, and they both nearly fell over. Keith was scowling, and with a flash of courage, Shiro clapped him on the shoulders.

He didn’t expect Keith to look so stunned.

“We’re going to have to find a different way across,” Shiro decided, and this time, no one complained. “Any ideas?”

“Giant catapult.”

“How about we just not?”

“Have you ever heard about those giant magical chickens?”

Keith stared at Hunk. “How are we supposed to find a magical chicken?”

“I dunno, I just figured if we found one, it could carry us across and then we could eat it afterwards. I’m sort of starving.” Hunk’s belly growled on queue.

Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose, but only a little. “Hey, Keith,” he started, more tentatively than he would’ve liked, but the Sun soldier spun around to greet him with a stiff, almost formal nod. “That compass Allura gave you, do you think we could try it? I mean, we’re going to need it once we get to the mainland, anyway.”

“It’s broken.” Keith said shortly.

“Can we just see it? Maybe we can figure out how it works.” Shiro was patient and finally Keith sighed heavily before digging the elaborately carved box out of his pocket. He reluctantly opened the case, letting the little golden needle spin until it finally came to a stop, pointing right at Shiro.

“See? Broken. Are we done now?” He moved to snap the case shut, but Shiro gently took it from his hands.

“Let me see if I can work it.” They all gathered closely to watch as the needle circled aimlessly, never settling in any one direction. Shiro’s hand flickered with pale silver energy, trying to trigger the compass to move, but it didn’t work.

Hunk furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “Maybe if you hold it up higher? Or hey Lance, you try holding it?” He suggested as they passed the compass back and forth. “Wait, maybe your hat is interfering with the magic. Try spinning the opposite way the needle goes.” Lance stood on one foot as Hunk slowly spun him around.

Keith scowled and grabbed the compass back from the two idiots. The needle finally settled, pointing back at Shiro and the soldier flushed. “I told you it doesn’t work, and if there’s some magical way to make it start, I don’t know what it is. I’m not the one with all the magical powers.”

“Then why don’t we ask Allura?” Shiro shrugged. “We got into the Spirit World once by accident, what if we tried it again? Maybe we can find her and just ask how to get to the Temple of Heaven.”

“You do know that it’s dangerous for humans in the Spirit World, right? Only Celestials can really travel there, and there isn’t a squishy human safe spot we can camp in.” Lance asked dubiously and squished Hunk for emphasis. 

Shiro shrugged. “We won’t take long. We just need to talk to Allura.”

“How long can it take?” Keith shrugged, but Shiro figured it was mostly to contradict Lance. They found a spot by the river to sit, picking through their supplies for snacks with Keith’s compass resting in the middle of their circle. Shiro had taken a deep breath and folded himself into a meditation stance that Keith recognized from their time at the Garrison. Without thought, he mimicked him, watching him intently as he chewed on dried fruits and jerky.

It was a quiet peace, with only the distant rustle of the trees to interrupt them. Pity it couldn’t last.

“So…” Hunk whispered, doing his best to keep his voice down. He did such a good job that neither Lance nor Keith could hear him, and they both gestured unhelpfully at their ears and his mouth. Hunk scowled. “ _So._  Are we there yet? Like how’ll we know?”

Keith sent a warning look towards Shiro’s direction before hissing, “Does the Spirit World sleep? Can we only get there at night?”

“I have no idea.” Shiro hissed back, keeping his eyes closed and trying to channel his power around him. The priests at the Temple of the Moon never said anything about the Spirit World or how to open it.

Hunk slapped his belly with a loud  _smack_. “Are there mosquitoes in the Spirit World?”

“Shhhh!” Shiro and Keith hushed him in unison. The warrior grumbled and flopped over backwards, bored. Lance seemed like he was almost asleep, giant hat pulled down over his face and blessedly silent for once. Beside them, the river gurgled softly and insects hummed in the trees. Shiro breathed in deeply, trying to find his center. He’d done this one before when he’d been upset and panicked, chased by nightmares and visions of memories he couldn’t hold on to. The fear had let him tear a hole between the words, knocking on the door was different.

Silver light pulsed from his body, edged in a sickly purple around his arm. He reached for something with his mind, too aware of Keith sitting so close and distracted.  _Patience yields focus_. There was no rushing this, he had to stay calm and find his way between this world and the next. He could do this.

“Uh, guys?” Hunk said again as Shiro bit back a frustrated sigh. “Does anyone else see the giant chicken, or is that just me?”

“Hunk, for the last time, there’s no-” Keith choked on his indignation and Shiro was shaken out of his daze.

Less than three feet away, the size of a cart was the largest bird he’d ever seen. It had a plumage of gold, crimson and green, and a delicate bell just beneath its beak. The feathers along its head were raised in the same shapes that formed the leaves of the Islands’ trees. They took one look at it and screamed. The chicken took off in a burst of angry feathers.

“Man, you guys are  _loud._ ”

They turned, in surprise and demonstrated just how loud they could be. Even the second time around, the dragon was a sight to behold. His long body curled under him and across the field, shimmering with every shade of blue in the misty light of the Spirit World. He wore a smug serpent’s grin, and his tongue flickered between his fangs. Even with his head on the ground, his snout almost reached Shiro’s elbow.

All around them, the Spirit World shimmered and flickered, every star on display, beside the sun’s ethereal light, like the Empress had decided to humble herself to share Her stage.

“You did it! Guys, guys you did it, we’re here!”

An uneasy silence fell over the group. Hunk was gone. In his place was a tall, golden warrior with long black hair and strong hands. Shiro got to his feet uneasily. Keith reached for his knife, but they were too late.

“ _Kanloan_.” It was an old word in a dead tongue, but Lance was rushing forward, his long, winding body rushing through the air, scales bleeding away like fleeing fireflies. They faded into a human form, but before the light could leave his skin, Lance pulled the stranger close and kissed him, kissed him like he could never let go, with tears in his eyes and a sob on his lips, kissed him like he’d never have another chance.

The warrior lifted Lance, intricate black tattoos shifting across his skin. The dragon wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck, burying his face into his shoulder as his entire body shook. His hands traced down the man’s chest, breathing in ragged, frantic gasps. “Kanloan.” The word was softer now, almost afraid as if he was going to disappear back into the ether.

“ _I’ve missed you, fish.”_  The warrior said in the lost, ancient language but somehow, Shiro and Keith could understand every word. It was Hunk’s voice but deeper and richer, thrumming with a power that seemed to shake the very ground. “ _Why do you look so sad?”_

“I-I’ve waited.” Lance cupped Kanloan’s face and kissed him again, eager and hungry, giving a soft breathy groan into the warrior’s mouth. “I never thought I’d see you again.” Tears streaked down the sides of his face, blinding him to anything but the way Kanloan held him, the curve of his smile pressed against his cheek, the rumble of laughter deep in his chest. Fading dragon scales shimmered around them like light dancing across ocean waves.

“ _I’ve always been right here with you_.” It only made Lance cry harder, trailing kisses down Kanloan’s shoulders. The warrior smiled, gently tipping Lance’s head up and wiping the tears with his thumbs. He pressed his lips to Lance’s forehead, stroking soothing fingers through the dragon’s short hair. Light sparked where they touched, the soft bloom that beat in time with every shared heartbeat.

Keith edged himself in front of Shiro, hand on the knife handle at his side. He wasn’t going to need it. No one else paid him or Shiro any heed.

“ _I know what you’re doing._ “ Kanloan whispered, his face warm with concern and no small amount of fear. “ _It’s dangerous_.”

Lance shook his head insistently, turning into the other man’s hand and dropping a kiss against his palm. Then the inside of his wrist, and on the soft skin of his forearm. He traced the intricate designs on the stranger’s arm, fingers moving with memorized skill along the graceful, bold strikes of his tattoos. They seemed to shimmer on touch, far too vibrant to be bound by ink and skin, and Kanloan gave in with a breathless sigh. “I don’t care. It’s worth it. You can’t stop me.”

“ _No one ever could._ ” Kanloan seemed pleased despite his protest, and he wouldn’t stop touching Lance, swaying with him to a beat only they could hear. Touching, kissing, feeling, like they were on borrowed time. “ _Please be careful._ ”

“I’m so close. Nothing’s going to hold me back.”

“ _That’s not what I’m worried about.”_

Laughter caught in Lance’s throat, but it sounded too shrill and too fragile. Kanloan shook his head, tracing the soft curve of his lower lip, and Lance stated crying again. “Don’t forget about me.”

“ _Never_.” The answer came with too much heat, but Lance wasn’t afraid. He would never be, and the lights around them started to fade. “ _Someone’s gotta watch over you, bro, you’re a walking disaster. And who’s gonna get you in trouble if I’m not around?_ ”

There was one last smile, one last kiss, and suddenly Hunk was there, wrapped in Lance’s arm. He blinked slowly, like he was coming out of a deep sleep, and when he spoke, his voice sounded so small. “Why did you do that?”

“Hunk.” For the first time in his entire life, Lance didn’t know what to say. The two men stared at each other in shock before Hunk jerked away, wrapping his own arms around himself. He made a soft strangled noise, trying to make sure he was the only one in his skin, back to flesh and blood instead of something too powerful for his body to contain.

Lance reached for him but Hunk stumbled back with a shout. “No! Don’t touch me!” His anguish twisted the world around them, the world melting around them like ink running in water. They all yelped as the ground rolled and sent them all tumbling to the dirt. When they opened their eyes, Hunk was the only one standing on the banks of the river, the Spirit World gone as quickly as a dream.

“What the hell happened?” Keith rolled to his feet and watched Hunk warily as if he was some new sort of threat. “What was that?”

No one seemed willing to give an answer. Hunk breathing too fast and his eyes too wide. “I don’t know.” He stuttered, looking down at his hands and then up at Lance who watched him with heartbreak in his eyes. “Me. I think? A part of me. What am I?”

The question was directed at Lance who opened his mouth mutely.

“Lance, what am I?!” He yelled and the pirate flinched, quailing back from his best friend’s wrath.

“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t…you weren’t supposed to…”

“There’s something inside of me, I can feel it.” The warrior ran his hands through his hair and turned away. “I can’t- there’s too much, I can’t. It’s breaking me apart.”

Lance took a halting step forward, hands stretched out in a silent plea for his friend. “You need to relax, just breathe. I’m going to help you through this.”

The ground rumbled, faint tremors that built like an approaching army strong enough to shake the trees. “Help me?” Bitterness and betrayal colored his words. “You can’t help me.” The earth moved to follow Hunk’s movements, mud and rock rising from the river as he pulled them into the air. It obeyed him and the world remade itself with Hunk’s power. A bridge formed over the massive river, more rock piling over each other to create a dripping walkway.

Hunk turned to look at them as he dropped his hands to his side and the earth stilled. 

“I remember.”


	14. Interlude 2: The Legend of the Koi and the Earthshaker

The legend started long ago before humans dared to tame the seas, in the time the Gods walked the Earth, and the Heavens weren’t so far away. It was a story of friendship, and romance. A story of sacrifice and longing. A story of hope and destiny. But first and foremost, it was the story of the world’s oldest, most annoyed koi.

With bright orange scales and wide, expressive eyes, Lance hated everything about being a fish and had for the last thousand years. He’d been struggling to escape his form for centuries. One by one, his siblings had surpassed him. They found their wisdom, protected in the smooth, flawless shape of a pearl.

Then they ascended into dragons.

Some of them disappeared deep under the waves, finding new territory to call their own as they carved up the oceans with  _Manalanta,_ the sea god. Some of them crawled onto land, slicing open spaces for rivers to flow where they went, and no matter how far they traveled, they were always connected to their home. Jerks.

“What if I borrow yours?” Lance pleaded, swimming along the long line of his older sister’s scales, personally insulted by how long her jade tail was. “I can just hold on to it for a few days, and-”

“You know that’s not how it works. Wisdom cannot be stolen or borrowed.” She answered serenely. Lance thought turning into a dragon made you naturally more smug and stuck out his tongue.

Worse, they left him to babysit a whole new generation of koi, a whole school of mouthy jerks who didn’t whisper as softly as they thought they did as they swarmed around their oldest brother.

“Don’t talk to him, he’s cursed. He’s never even seen a pearl.”

“I am right here and I can hear you!”

Lance left a trail of frothy bubbles as he swam away, working his jaw furiously. It happened at least once a week. They were all the worst. Everything was boringly, predictably miserable for Lance, and it never looked like it was going to end. Until one day, when he was plucked out of the ocean in a smooth, porcelain cup.

He screamed.

The koi flopped and splashed, circling round and round the cup as he slopped water to the sand. The porcelain seemed to grow as he struggled, always just too big for him to escape. This was a magical prison, it wasn’t fair! He yelped at the top of his fishy lungs as the cup tipped and nearly dumped him overboard.

A large eye squinted down at him and Lance was sure this was the end. He was going to end up roasted or barbecued by a giant, what a tragic fate. He was way too pretty to die and he’d never even found his pearl of wisdom. How could he get eaten before he even grew into a dragon? He blubed sadly, blowing bubbles in self-pity.

The water sloshed again as the creature holding him laughed. “What were you doing out there today? You could have gotten hurt!”

“Hurt? Says the monster who’s going to eat me. I’m just a little fish, I’m full of bones that’ll get stuck in your throat. You really don’t want me, I’m gross.”

“Oh I don’t know, you look pretty to me.” He set the cup on the sand and peered inside, giving Lance the first real look at his captor.

The man was human-shaped, but there was no way any ordinary human could have been so enormous. He was a wall of deep brown skin and muscle and a large round belly. He had a smile that seemed too bright to look at. Elaborate tattoos were etched across his chest and down his arms, blacker than night and almost seemed to move as Lance stared at them. They told the story of creation and of warriors, the magic of strength and protection scribbled across his body. What a hunk.

He had to be a god. Not the ethereal Celestials, no one had seen one in ages and Lance had never known anyone who’d even set eyes on one of the elusive gods of heaven in person. An Earthly god, sturdy and solid, drawing his power from the land itself.

Lance knew he was going to die, but he focused on the most important thing. “You think I’m pretty?”

“The prettiest.” The stranger said with a warm, teasing smile that had Lance preening in his scales. “If you promise not to jump back into the ocean, I’ll let you go.”

Lance paused to consider. He was in the presence of a hunk with fantastic taste. That went some way towards good will. He shrugged with his entire body, as the spell was stayed. A ripple of power flowed through him that electrified him to the very tip of his fins… And Lance flung himself into the ocean.

Before he could touch the salty water, the cup was back, and he landed face first in smooth porcelain. The god refilled his glass. There was a terse silence as Lance tried to smother himself in his tail fin.

The god cleared his throat. “I mean… I kinda told you not to do that.”

“Yup.”

“Specifically.”

“Yeah.”

“Like, really specifically.”

“Oh no, I heard.”

“Do you want to try again without doing the thing?”

Lance rolled onto his back, the universal sign of surrender or possibly death by embarrassment. He jolted when someone started scratching him, friction slippery underwater, but still good. “ _Fine.”_

This time, when the spell was taken away, he stepped out on land. Scales shifted and parted, receding up long, human limbs, but his brown hair came away damp with sea water. His eyes still twinkled like the oceans, a part of his home that he couldn’t quite let go. Then he tried to make himself as tall as the immortal and missed by a few inches. 

It didn’t stop him from sticking out his narrow chest like he had a chance next to an actual god and earned one quick poke between the ribs. Lance deflated with a whoosh. “Hey, not fair!”

“Sorry, just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, I did tell the Sea God that I was going to be working here today, did you ignore that?”

Lance frowned, trying to remember. The other koi had said something, but he usually did his best to tune them out. They were annoying children anyways, the only thing they ever wanted to do was follow him around and ask him questions about how old he was. Stupid little minnows. “Maybe?”’

The god laughed and flopped down on the sand, looking completely relaxed and at ease under the sun. Lance was immediately charmed and hid it under a scowl as the god gestured for him to join him on the sand. “I’m Kanloan, what’s your name, little fish?”

The pieces in Lance’s brain finally clicked and he gaped in outrage. “I’m Lance, I’m not a little fish! I’m a  _dragon_ , thank you very much.”

“You didn’t look much like a dragon. Aren’t they supposed to be, I dunno, bigger? And like, more dragon shaped and stuff?” He raised his hands over his head and wiggled his body like a snake. “I’m pretty sure that you were making fish faces at me a minute ago.”

The koi huffed and sat down heavily on the sand. “I  _am_  a dragon.”

“Sure you are, bro.”

Lance sighed with his entire body, and thought himself very generous for letting that one go. Well. Almost. “So what are you doing here? It’s very dangerous all on your own when you can’t even recognize a dragon.”

He was answered with a snort. “You’re totally right, dude. You should stick around and watch my back. Gotta make sure no dragons sneak up on my while I’m working.”

Lance crossed his arms over his chest, peering suspiciously at the god, but Kanloan only smiled wider. It was all he could do to stave off his curiosity. “Well if it helps  _you_.”

The god laughed, bright and booming, burying his toes in the sand, and Lance shivered all the way up to his ears. “You bet it does, maybe you should hold on to something?”

Kanloan dug his toes into the sand, wiggled his entire body before raising his arms in front of him with his hands balled into fists. He was breathing heavily, eyes narrowed in focus, and then he  _pulled._  A bright white light flashed before his eyes, and suddenly the ocean around them bubbled. Lance gasped, feeling the heat prickle against his skin and grabbed onto the other immortal. He watched in fascination as Kanloan raised his hands, and it seemed like the Golden Empress’s fire had been lit beneath the ocean waves. Long, thick lines of red rose to the surface and cooled into rock.

Suddenly, they were surrounded by more land, their tiny little island gaining a brother and sister of massive size. One by one, Kanloan pulled up the Earth, glowing with indescribable power, but whenever he brushed against Lance he was gentle.

The  _dragon_  remained plastered against his side, as Kanloan made the ground bow to his whims. He made beautiful sloping meadows and graceful mountains that struggled to reach the sky, and when he was done, he plopped back on the sand with a breathless laugh.

Lance plopped on top of him. “That was amazing! You’re so amazing!”

Kanloan blushed a furious red under his tan, and grinned proudly even as he looked away. “It’s just a little something I put together.”

“No, that was awesome!” Lance insisted excitedly. “Can I see more?”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah! Can I see more of them?”

Kanloan was flustered, Lance could read it in every line of his handsome face, and part of him was thrilled that he could make the god look that way. The rest of him wondered why everyone Kanloan ever met didn’t just shower him in praise all the time. “Well, yeah? If you want to! No one’s ever really wanted to see this part of it before. I mean, they just, they like it when I’m done.”

“Then I want the grand tour,” Lance demanded.

“Are all dragons this needy - ow!” Kanloan rubbed at the center of his chest, where he’d fallen victim to Lance’s bony bits and pieces and pouted. Lance secretly thought it was a good look on him.

They hopped from island to island, soaring over rapidly cooling lava and welcoming new life wherever Hunk’s feet touched. Lance gasped, ogling his work without restraint as thick lush forests spread over his new creations.

“That’s amazing!” He whispered, genuinely in awe. The new islands bloomed under the god’s magic and he couldn’t keep from gushing his praise. The god flushed a pleased red, ducking his head in what Lance could swear was embarrassment.

“It’s not that big of a deal, it’s just sort of what I do. You really like it?”

“Dude, you’re seriously incredible! I’ve never seen anything like that before. I’m sorry I was in your way, I had no idea that you’d be doing this.”

Kanloan grinned, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m glad. It’s okay, no harm done, Fish.”

That earned a scowl as Lance elbowed the god until he laughed. “I’m  _not_  a fish, Hunk.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“Shut up!”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance couldn’t stay away. Even the chattering of the younger koi as they followed behind his tail couldn’t pull him out of his distraction. The god was powerful, handsome, infuriating. But more than that, he seemed kind. He teased without malice and there was something just so bright and honest about his laugh that it drew Lance in whenever he heard it. It was different from the chattering infants who annoyed him every chance they got or his aloof brothers and sisters who either looked down at him for failing to join them as dragons or pitied him for his lack of wisdom.

The Hunk had treated him like a real friend, Lance didn’t know how to feel. All he knew was that he couldn’t stay away.

He made the long swim from the bottom of the ocean up to the sandy shore towards the god’s newest creations. If the Hunky guy was anywhere, he’d probably be there, calling up fire out of the very ocean itself to send earth bubbling up out of the water. Maybe Lance could get him to smile again, he really liked how it looked. What was he saying, of course he could. Not even a god could resist Lance’s innate charm. He had a reputation to uphold!

The koi really should have been paying more attention. “AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” The water went from cool to scorching in a matter of seconds and Lance flipped himself up into the air, gasping on the rising steam. He shed scales and fins in a panic, switching for browned skin and too-long limbs as he scrambled onto the beach and away from the scalding water.

“Fish!”

Suddenly there were strong arms wrapped around him, and Lance found himself face first in the not inconsiderable muscle of his Hunk’s chest. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. 

“Fish, oh no! Fish, are you okay?” Hunk looked absolutely distraught as he checked Lance over, cradling him in his lap and gingerly touching his new legs. His skin had gone an angry red, and Hunk was crushed. Lance decided he could correct him later about the fish thing. “I’m so sorry. I thought the coast was clear.”

“Pfft, I’m fine. What self-respecting dragon can’t handle a little heat?” Lance huffed. Then he made the mistake of moving, and his limbs buckled under him. Hunk let out a pained whine in the back of his throat, before pulling him back into his arms. It hurt more than Lance had expected to see the guilt and sadness that cut across Kanloan’s face. Also the burns. Those hurt, too.

“I’m so sorry.” Kanloan said miserably, and Lance couldn’t have any of it. He draped his arms across the god’s shoulders, pulling himself in until he could tuck his face against the crook of his note, and it was so good, he almost forgot what he was going to say.

“ _Hey._  It’s not your fault. I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

If anything, his Hunk just looked sadder, and muttered another apology before slowly getting to his feet. “I can fix this.”

Lance wished he could convince the god that he didn't need to. Kanloan carried him across his Islands, looking far and wide before they came to the base of a tall mountain. Unlike other mountains, its peak was replaced by a large basin of water, the result of an angry sea turtle digging his way back to the ocean floor from its pinnacle. Ever so slowly, his Hunk submerged them both in its cool waters, and the heat from Lance’s skin drained away, bleeding into the lake. Lance groaned like he was paid to. Hunk refused to let go.

“I’m sorry I missed up your islands.” Lance said in a small voice, but Hunk smiled shakily.

“You didn’t, it’s okay. I’m just worried about you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I should have been more careful. I wasn’t paying as close attention as I should have.” He fussed over Lance who couldn’t help but preen a little. “Is it really bad?”

Lance pulled his legs from the water, the skin still red and blistered, but the pain had been cooled away. He frowned, willing himself to heal faster. As a potential Immortal, he could survive almost anything and healed almost as fast as a real dragon, but it was still embarrassingly slow in front of a god. “I’m fine.” He muttered, face almost as red as the burns.

“What were you doing out there, Fish?” Kanloan asked and Lance flushed even deeper.

“I was going to visit just to see how you were doing.” He said breezily as if he didn’t care. “In case you needed any help or anything. I know that you were kind of taken with me last time, I don’t blame you or anything. I know you think I’m pretty, Hunk.”

“Hunk?” The god blinked in surprise before giving a sharp bark of laughter. “Is that what you’re really going with?”

“You call me Fish!”

“You  _are_  a fish!”

“Well, if the name fits.” Lance crossed his arms and scowled until Hunk collapsed in laughter, hugging the koi tightly.

“You’re a good fish, you know that?” He didn’t let go and Lance didn’t try to pull away, leaning into the god with a small, pleased smile. No one had ever really complimented him like that before. Well, no one except himself and he did make it a point to tell his entire extended family just how amazing he was, they just never seemed to believe him. It was hard with so many siblings, he got lost in the middle and forgotten about, especially since he hadn’t found his pearl. Hunk didn’t look at him like a failure or skip over him, it was nice to bask in the attention.

Hunk’s arms were nice to bask in too.

Lance let himself linger, soothed by the steady beat of Hunk’s pulse before he nudged his friend in the side. His legs felt better, the skin smooth and whole one more, and he felt his strength return. It made him bold, and he remembered why he’d visited. 

“Are you working on anything now?” He asked softly. 

Hunk brightened, obviously proud of his work, but he sent another worried glance towards where Lance was submerged in water. Lance splashed him in the face, and Hunk laughed through his surrender.

“I am, uh - but it’s just a small thing. Do you still want to see it?” Hunk asked, but for the first time, he shied away from Lance, like he was already expecting to be turned down, and Lance had the sudden urge to smack anyone who’d ever said anything less than kind to his friend.

“Of course! Come on, bro, show me.” He got out of the lake and shook himself off with such ferocity that the clouds above them darkened with rain. Hunk laughed at him, but with him, too, and this time, Lance carried Hunk out of the lake, flexing his muscles as they went.

Hunk took him by the hand and lead him through his islands, dancing past forests that reached like mountains towards the Heavens, and deep ravines that went lower than the ocean floor. Every island had been crafted with loving care, and no two were the same. Lance felt love in every creation, but none so strongly until they reached a long ledge that overlooked the beach below. It was part of a rock formation that curved in a semi-circle out to see and artfully created a pocket of safe space that extended over the ocean, and right below them was a small village. Their wooden boats and stilted huts dotted the shore, and Lance gasped in surprise.  _Humans_.

“I made this for them.” Hunk said softly, puffing out his chest a little, pleased but humble in the same breath. “They just showed up while I was working. They always find my Islands. So I made this spot especially for them.” 

“Are they yours?” Lance was impressed. Even with all of the creatures who lived in the ocean, the Sea God didn’t have his own human to worship him. They all had a bad habit of drowning every time he tried to drag them down to his kingdom. Lance never really knew why he cared so much.

“I don’t really think they’re anyone’s, but they’re nice? They talk to me sometimes. No one else really does.” There was something almost sad in Hunk’s voice and Lance’s heart thumped against his chest, suddenly fiercely protective of his godly friend. “Do you want to meet them?”

Lance sputtered in surprise. “Meet humans? I’ve never seen any up close before, are you sure they’re safe?”

“Yeah, come on!” Hunk brought them right to the edge of the village, completely unafraid as Lance peeked out from behind him, not really trusting these mortals. As soon as they saw Kanloan, a cheer went up and people raced out to meet them. They looked almost like the god, smaller dimmer versions. They were pretty in their mortality, but they didn’t have the power that pulsed through the Earth god or the shine of the immortal. Still, they treated Hunk more like a member of their own instead of a god. An old man ruffled Hunk’s hair affectionately as hordes of small children clung to his legs.

Shy young women waved at Lance and he colored, especially as one boldly hung a garland of bright flowers around his neck. Regaining his composure, he winked and pointed his fingers at her, earning a giggle as she fled back to the other women. “I could get used to this.”

Hunk, slung his arm around Lance’s shoulder and dragged him closer to smush the fish’s face into his fleshy side. “Be nice, we’re guests.”

“Mmmf!” Lance flailed his arms, voice muffled against Hunk before coming up for air with a gasp. “Come on, I’m sure they’ve never seen a real dragon up close before.”

The god raised an eyebrow and didn’t say anything.

Humans weren’t known for their speed, yet it seemed like no time at all before they were dragged to the center of a feast. It looked like everything in the village had been cooked. There was steaming pork and roasted fowl, and in the center of it all was a frying fish that looked almost as long as Lance. It made Lance feel vindictively proud.

Everyone wanted to talk to Hunk, about the weather, about the harvest, about pretty shells they saw in the sand. It seemed like there were little children stuck to his shoulders. When one slipped down, another would try to climb up the god’s long flowing hair to replace it, until Hunk plucked them into his arms and helped them find a seat. Then Hunk took Lance by the hand, and introduced, “This is my friend, Lance. He’s a Sea Dragon.”

A gasp followed the announcement, and then everyone wanted to talk to Lance, too. It was overwhelming and delightful. Little wrinkled humans who couldn’t have been a tenth of his age patted his hands and told him to take care of Hunk, and littler humans sat on his lap and demanded to know everything about his day. When they demanded to see his tail, Lance dove into the ocean and swam in the moonlight to applause and laughter. By the time it was all over, Lance was giddy with exhaustion.

They were lead to a large hut at the corner of the village, one that stood right over the water, and Hunk was smiling with enough warmth to light the night sky.

“You have sand on your nose,” the god teased, carefully wiping it clean as Lance swatted halfheartedly at his hands.

“I wouldn’t if those little bugs didn’t keep ganging up on me,” Lance huffed, but he was smiling, too. “Offer one person a piggy back ride, and that’s what you get.”

“You’re the Dragon of the South Sea,” Hunk said in an imperial tone, puffing out his chest and pulling a face. “Everyone wants a piece of you.”

Lance’s stomach swooped with too much anticipation, and he couldn’t seem to get it to stop cartwheeling. “Everyone?” He asked in a voice that was too thick, and Hunk ducked his head in embarrassment. 

“Of course.” Hunk was looking up towards the sky, the heavens so far away but still beautiful stretched over the water in an ocean of stars. “No one’s ever seen anything like you before. I think they really like you.”

The koi preened, no one had ever been proud before and he hoped he read more into Hunk’s words than just the feelings of a few humans. He pressed himself closer to the Earth god’s side, skillfully tucking himself beneath Hunk’s arm and settling in like he belonged there. There hadn’t been any pity or mocking remarks, they accepted him as a dragon and celebrated. He’d never felt more loved in his life. “I really like your humans.”

“They’re good people, I really like them too. They’ve been…it’s been lonely out here sometimes. I was born from a volcano and grew up alone. I never had any real friends or family until they started following my islands. They took me in.”

Lance wrapped his arms him. “I’m your friend.” He promised to Hunk and the ocean and the night sky, and was rewarded by the god hugging him tightly. Now was a time of honestly and he blushed as Hunk’s arms traced down his sides. “You know I’m not a real dragon yet, right?”

“You are to me. I think you’re perfect, Lance.” The koi’s heart stuttered when Hunk used his real name and he looked up at his friend, his wonderful handsome lonely  _friend_.

Lance should have been thinking more about him, but in that moment, all he felt was brave. He moved in, too clumsy and too eager to hide his intentions, but Hunk didn’t only let him, he pulled him closer. They met halfway for a kiss that was too gentle, little more than a careful brush, and yet shivers raced down Lance’s spine, chased by an impossible wave of heat. He didn’t dare open his eyes, lost in the way his mouth prickled where they touched and Kanloan’s arms around his waist.

“Do you want to go inside?” He felt his friend’s breath against his lips, and the way he shuddered when Lance tightened his grip. Smug felt good when it slipped into place alongside brave. There was only one answer Lance wanted to give.

“Yes.”

That night he realized that he never wanted to deny Hunk anything. 

They stayed in the little hut by the edge of the village for many moons, with Hunk working along the coast, and Lance helping in every way he could. Though still a koi, he carved rivers across the Islands like his siblings did on the mainland. Even if he had an Earth god behind him to do all the heavy lifting, it totally counted. 

One by one, they shaped Hunk’s islands, until there were too many for Lance to count, and they never had to wait long for more of Hunk’s humans to show up. He protected them, and they praised him, always too happy to leave a spot for him as the head of their feasts. Lance noticed a new pattern of ink creep up in the villages. The Islanders called them dragon tattoos, but all Lance saw were the pudgy curves of a well-fed Koi. Hunk saw, and laughed until he cried. 

They shared everything as they worked. Lance claimed he never wanted any of his stuck up siblings or the whiny brats to meet Hunk, but he spent days talking about each and every one of them. Hunk told Lance about all his favorite places, and the fragile humans that meant so much to him, painting a picture of a lonely, gentle genius with too much potential and so much strength.

Every moment of free time Lance had, he spent with his best friend, and the time he spent with his family was spent missing him. It didn’t matter that the entire school was all in a tizzy about a grand event, the wedding of the Sea God Manalanta. When Lance should have been swept up in decorating his fins with coral, all he could think about was what Hunk was doing without him.

His brothers and sisters knew something was wrong by the moony look Lance kept sporting and the way he didn’t chase them all away when they followed him everywhere or tugged at his tail for attention. They whispered and giggled behind their fins. They blew bubbles at Lance and played with the necklace of pretty shells around his neck.

“Lance is in looooooove.” They chanted as he finally swatted them away. “Who is it? Lance likes somebody.”

“Nobody, go away.” Lance made the scariest faces he could to shoo them away, but his siblings just laughed, too used to his moods to be afraid.

“You should invite them to the Sea God’s wedding.”

“Yeah! It’s going to be beautiful, he’s been planning it for a hundred years!”

One of the smallest koi swam up, eyes wide in awe as he cuddled up to his big brother. “They say that his betrothed is powerful and rich, but we’ve never seen him.”

“Oh, and I suppose you lot have been following Manalanta around looking for his fiance, him?”

“Yeah!” “Of course.” “Duuuuh.” The little koi cheered and Lance sighed. They’d all be lucky if the Sea God didn’t send a whale to swallow them all up if he ever caught them spying.

“Just stay out of his way, you know Manalanta has a temper.” He warned, but the little koi just stuck their tongues out and swam around him in circles. Would Hunk like to come to a wedding with him? Lance had never really thought about bringing him down to his home. Going up to Hunk’s islands, Lance felt like a different person. He wasn’t a failure, he was a dragon. People thought he was important and more than that, Hunk liked him.

Maybe more than liked him.

He’d never had a best friend before, but he had fallen into Kanloan’s life like he was a missing piece. It was shocking how well they fit, laughing together, playing tricks and pranks, challenging each other with stupid dares. Even when Hunk was shy or reluctant, Lance could always coax him into trouble that more often than not resulted in them running for their immortal lives, chased by angry spirits or annoyed imps.

When Hunk laughed, he made the very ground tremble, and all Lance wanted to do was hold on. When he didn’t, when he was quiet and reserved, Lance wrapped himself around him and did his best to keep him warm. Hunk had lived a lonely life. He carried the weight of its memories as easily as he did the ink on his skin, and Lance liked knowing that he wouldn’t have to carry it all by himself now.

He looked around his home, swimming in slow circles. His siblings were terrible, but it  _was_  home. And once he started thinking about it, he realized there was so much he wanted to show his best friend. There was also a surprise benefit. If Hunk came down during Manalanta’s wedding, he’d dress up in all his fancy gold finery and that fancy vest he had that showed off his arms, and honestly, Lance would swim the length of so many oceans to see that vest and those arms. This was a good idea. This was the  _best_  idea.

Lance always swam fast when he made the trip to the surface, but today he swam faster. As he stepped out on the shore, he wondered vaguely if he should have brought a gift. Then he wondered if Hunk would notice if he picked flowers on the island to give him. Lance should’ve thought this through! He’d been seeing the Earth god for months now, but he didn’t know anything about asking him out!

But all his worries flew out the window when he found his best friend sitting by the shore of his latest creation. The terrain was still too harsh for humans to occupy, and normally Hunk would be working tirelessly to fix that. Instead, he was subdued and looking out over the setting sun. Lance launched himself at him.

Hunk startled when he burst from the waves.

“Why the long face, buddy?” Lance asked. “I could see you frowning all the way on the sea bed.”

Hunk buried his face in Lance’s shoulder, and blew a raspberry in damp skin. He made Lance laugh, but Lance couldn’t seem to get him to smile. “I’m almost done,” Hunk admitted after too long, still refusing to move out of Lance’s arms. That was okay. Lance just held on tighter. “This is going to be my last island.”

“What? Why?” Lance was immediately hostile and looking for someone to blame for making Hunk unhappy. He clung to his friend like a barnacle, ready to smack someone on a moment’s notice. “Your islands are amazing, why would you ever stop making them?”

The god finally managed a small, brittle smile, bolstered by his best friend’s fierce defense. “I’m just done. Most of them are full of growing things and the humans are doing well. They’re good now, they don’t need me anymore. It’s time to move on.”

“No!” The koi cried out before he could stop himself and peppered Hunk’s shoulders with kisses. “They’re you’re family, they need you. Families always need you.” His voice faltered and he rested his hands over the god’s heart. “ _I_ need you.”

Tears gathered in the corners of Kanloan’s eyes and he smiled through them, tracing too-large hands down Lance’s face. After so many centuries of being alone, he’d finally found someone who loved him for what he was, caring for his flaws and celebrating his triumphs. A friend, something more than a friend. A partner. A love. An equal. His face scrunched, losing his composure and sobbing as Lance tried desperately to sooth him. “I can’t be with you anymore, I promised to marry Manalanta.”

“THE SEA GOD?” He jerked back, eyes wide in shock. The wedding, the celebration. The Sea God had been planning the event for a century and was going to marry a powerful god with many human worshipers and, and… it was Kanloan?

It was his Hunk?

“I should have told you, I just didn’t want to lose you.” He sniffed and rubbed his face on his arm.

“How could you marry him? How did this happen?!” Lance paced back and forth with his hands in his hair, trying to make sense of the world. Hunk was so kind and caring, he was gentle, he loved too much. He was brilliantly smart and funny. He was lonely, how could he have ever met Manalanta? It wasn’t possible, this was just some kind of joke. He looked at Hunk and silently pleading with him to deny it.

Hunk only hugged himself closer, like he was trying to reclaim the space Lance had left behind. He looked miserable, and Lance wanted to take him far, far away.

“Hunk…”

“I’m sorry.” The Earth god whispered, fidgeting with the ground by his hip. The stone parted and carved at will. Hunk was powerful enough to build mountains, but precise enough that the brilliant figures he carved with his finger were as delicate as the strokes of a calligraphy brush. Hunk couldn’t seem to find his voice. Every time he thought about his upcoming nuptials his stomach plummeted. He’d been scared for years now, as his project moved closer and closer to completion.

A thousand beautifully crafted islands, each built with love and dedication.

A wedding present to a god he could offer none to.

Beneath Hunk's hand, the little pebbles formed statues. A seacoast defined by different layers of stone. An awful, powerful wave rising up to meet it. Hunk crushed it all beneath his fist.

The first time he’d met Manalanta, he’d been overwhelmed and thrilled to meet someone, anyone like him. Hunk had been trying to make the mountains touch the sky. He’d pulled on all the reserves of his strength and he’d been so happy to share the news that the first humans had finally arrived.

Then he’d been terrified. Manalanta had surged on his latest creation, a quiet group of islands just off the coast. He parted the sea and formed a tsunami large enough to drown his mountains before descending to meet the young Earth god.

He’d been beautiful and cold, as quick to anger as the raging sea and then as quiet and charming as the tiny lapping waves that foamed against Hunk’s shore. He’d brought Kanloan the riches of his waters with brightly colored seashells and rare jewels from the deepest parts of the ocean. He wooed Hunk with sweet words and the subtle reminder that the islands were pulled from  _his_ kingdom and all the life on them was dependent on him. Kanloan had what Manalanta never did, the devotion of humans who worshiped him and with their combined power, everyone would offer them both praise and devotion.

It was a perfect match. Hunk, terrified and awestruck had accepted. The wedding had been set when Hunk had completed his gift, sparkling living jewels full of life that decorated the sea like a necklace. It was time to make good on his promise. He just hadn’t counted on meeting a stubborn, handsome, persistent koi who made him feel like he was worth loving for more than the gifts he could give.

“I’m sorry.” Hunk murmured again. “I didn’t mean to lie to you.” This was going to be the end, Lance was going to storm off and hate him forever. He was going to lose his best friend because he was a liar who’d been too afraid to let go even when he knew better. He hunched his shoulders in misery, the stones around him crumbling into sand.

Lance whirled, pointing his finger right in the Earth god’s face. “I’m getting you out of this. That old soggy jerk isn’t good enough for you!”

“Lance…”  
  
But Lance was worked up, flustered and determined, and he rushed in to kiss Hunk hard on the mouth. All Hunk could do was gasp. Lance knocked him over and they went toppling into the dirt, and still Lance wouldn’t stop. He kissed Hunk until all Hunk could do was give in, with a delirious happy little smile like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.  
  
“I’m not going to let this happen.” Lance swore, but his eyes were drawn to Hunk’s mouth and the god flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.  
  
How he hated to be responsible.  
  
“Lance this is dangerous,” Hunk insisted, remembering all too well how he’d already messed up. “It’s-  he’s- do you know who he is? He’s the God of the Sea! The God!”  
  
“But I love you.” They both froze at the confession, Lance was just as unprepared as Hunk but he rallied bravely. “And I’m the mother fishing South Sea Dragon.”

Hunk laughed as he pulled Lance down and surrendered to reckless, helpless love. This could only end badly, but Hunk lost himself to the moment and Lance’s arms. It was easy to shuck off the human style clothes and feel Lance’s skin against his, soft and pebbled with small iridescent scales that shimmered with all the different blues of the sea from the deepest almost-black to the brightest turquoise. They stood out like living jewels with a glow caught in the koi’s eyes.

His hands settled around Lance’s narrow waist as his best friend dragged open mouth kisses across the warrior tattoos etched into his skin. Lance followed them down along the curve of Hunk’s belly and took his time to explore each inch in exacting detail as if he was claiming new territory no one else would ever be able to touch: a bruised mark on Hunk’s hip to show his claim, whitened skin along Hunk’s thick thighs as Lance’s blunt nails left half-moon crescents as he gripped down.

“I love you.” Lance said again as if he was daring the world to prove him wrong.

“I love you too.”

Lance took him in, demanding more than Hunk had ever given before, but Hunk was too eager to surrender. Lance buried himself in the valley of his lover’s long legs, tasting salt on his skin as he took him apart on his tongue. Hunk opened up for his partner, moving with him in unrestrained fervor like he couldn’t quite believe they were taking such a big risk but needing to taste freedom before they were caught.  They disappeared together, drowning in one another and frantic, desperate heat. The ground shook beneath them, as graceful as the ocean waves and just as overwhelming.

 They were playing a terrible game that no one could win, but neither of them wanted to forfeit. They danced right on the edge, making love a stone’s throw away from the Sea God’s domain, but Hunk couldn’t care when he was too busy tasting his name on his best friend’s lips. 

Even though his wedding was just around the corner, there was so much to prepare for and Hunk wasted too much time doing things he wasn’t supposed to. Yet it felt so good, almost like a dream. It was the most saccharine relief after months of hiding anxiety and tension, all the sweeter now because Lance accepted him wholeheartedly. Hunk was ashamed for ever doubting him.

It couldn’t last.

Their fantasy came crashing around them when Manalanta arrived on the shore of his youngest island, and formally announced their engagement. His long billowing robes seemed to make up the sea, and his cane made of every coral imaginable. 

That day, Manalanta took Hunk beneath the waves for the first time, to the very heart of his kingdom.

The palace was built from coral in a thousand different colors, living and growing in ever more complicated spires and elaborate hallways. Silvered fish darted between beds of pink and orange sea anemones as giant spotted eels slithered between the cracks in the mortar, their sharp teeth the only hint of the dangers as they settled in as guards. Hunk laughed in delight as a school of bannerfish burst past him in a blur of black and white, their yellow tipped fins catching the muted lights from above. Even with his apprehension, this place was beautiful and he couldn’t help but stare in wonder as frilled decorations revealed themselves to be shy creatures who darted back into their shells to hide from the god’s attentions.

Manalanta was a gracious host as he showed off the riches of his kingdom, treating Hunk as yet another beautiful treasure to add to his collection. He snapped at his subjects to show the same subservience to Hunk as they waited on his every whim, even as Hunk awkwardly tried to explain he didn’t need that much care or attention. By the time the Sea God had shown Kanloan to his rooms, he was exhausted.

It didn’t stop him from grinning wide as an overlarge koi wiggled through his window (and definitely DIDN’T get stuck halfway through), fins and scales melting into a human shape that made things like hugging and making out much easier. The pair laughed, stealing moments together in Hunk’s own wedding chamber and made love in the Sea God’s bed. They made excuses to sneak out from diplomatic dinners and the elaborate parties set in his honor, finding each other in darkened corridors lit only by the soft blue glow of deep ocean jellyfish or in servant chambers dressed in scraps of seaweed to disguise themselves for just a few moments of desperate togetherness.

It was in the darkness, exhausted and satisfied, limbs tangled together in a soft and careless intimacy that Lance finally found it. He’d spent his life chasing wisdom because of power and vanity. It had been important to prove himself among his siblings and overcome his own failures all on his own because he had to be the best, he had to prove them all that he could. It had been a selfish fight for his own glory, but real wisdom came to him with gentled hands and fleeting kisses.

 _Love is the most important thing in the world_.

The pearl formed in his hand in a swirl of water and light, shimmering and luminescent. It was heavy, creamy white and perfect. The koi’s stubby form fell away into something long and elegant, a true dragon shaped from the ocean itself that rippled in a thousand different shades of blue and green and the deepest violets. His laughter echoed throughout the gardens as he chased his own tail with power coursing through him, accidentally tying himself in knots as he tried to wrap his sinuous body around Hunk. The god fondly twirled Lance’s long beard with a proud and knowing smile. “I never doubted you for a minute, bro.”

Lance’s big round eyes teared up and he rushed at Hunk, twining his long body around Hunk’s frame like he wanted to get as close as possible. Hunk could feel his scales against his skin, prickling with power as he kissed the apple of his best friend’s cheek. “I couldn’t have done it without you, I swear, I… Hunk you’re just the best thing. I don’t know how to say this.”

Hunk cut him off, dropping a kiss on his forehead, right between his eyes, and Lance squeezed him as tight as he could.

It was a shame that in achieving wisdom, they became careless. A startled gasp across the garden caught there attention, and they both turned just in time to see an angry crab scuttle off.  They shared a look of horror, and the same thought passed through their minds.

_No!_

Without a word, Lance whisked Hunk on his back and they sped through the kingdom. They were just touching the Great Sea before they heard the alarms in the city go off.

“The mainland!” Hunk yelled. “If we can make it to the main land, we’ll be okay! He said, but there was too much doubt in his voice. Sure, the mainland was divided up through more powerful Earth gods, but none held a domain as legendary as Manalanta. They couldn’t give up.

Yet the sea turned cold all around them, and as Hunk looked back, he saw a large blur speeding through the water, straight at them. His heart sunk, and in a fit of desperation, he carved open the sea floor and raised it in jagged angry lines. 

Lava poured through the cracks, the water around them scorching hot and boiling angrily. They burst through the froth as Hunk clung to Lance’s scale, the water swirling around them as Manalanta howled in his fury. The surface was so close, Hunk could see the bright light of the Lady Sun filtering down almost in reach, but the Sea God’s power in his own kingdom was just too strong. A whirlpool caught them, flinging them apart and sucking them back down into the darkness.

Lance’s new dragon scales cast a dim blue glow in the crushing black as Hunk swam towards him with his hands outstretched. They weren’t going to lose each other like this, not now. He wasn’t going to let his best friend down. The ground far below rumbled and split, deep sea vents spewing molten rock as Lance lashed out in a blur of glittering light and deadly teeth. He latched on to the Sea God’s arm and thrashed, trying to beat Manalanta back but was sent flying as a gout of water caught him in the face.

Hunk swam awkwardly over, gathering the dazed dragon in his arms as the Sea God loomed above them with a snarl full of shark’s teeth. “You pick _this_ over me? A newly born dragon who’s still more fish than anything?! I am the god of the sea!”

“We can talk about this.” Hunk tried to calm his fiancé’s betrayal. “No one meant to hurt you.”

“You have stolen what’s mine, so now I’ll take what’s yours!” Inky black tentacles lashed out, wrenching the Earth god from his dragon. They plunged into Hunk’s chest and pulled out his heart, crushing it in a shower of sparks like fire. Lance screamed as he threw himself against his restraints until he broke free, wrapping Hunk’s limp body in his coils and racing towards the surface. Manalanta’s cruel voice followed after him with a laugh.

“Try to keep him now.”

Hunk had never been in so much pain. It tore through him, insurmountable and undeniable as it clawed through his mind. Mercy, he pleaded. Mercy please.

There was none to be found. The light of day was blinding and he fell upon the sands of the mainland with a sob. Lance was around him, all over him and terrified, too shaken to even stand. A dragon’s tears were as precious as stones and now they fell freely, as his form receded to the familiar human figure Hunk knew so well. Hunk didn’t know when he’d realized he was dying.  
  
“We can fix this. I can fix this,” Lance sobbed. “I’ll get you to the mountain you’ll see. That healing mountain, it’s-”  
  
“Fish.” Hunk said the word with all the good humor he possessed and Lance snarled in frustration. He couldn’t move. His vision blurred and dotted with black. Hunk didn’t know it but his light was fading, that impossible warmth that kept him alive for so long. Already the sands darkened where his blood spilled, and quintessence swirled with it. “It hurts so bad.”  
  
“I, I’ll fix this Hunk you have to fight. Kanloan, gods don’t die please!” Lance rasped.  He was shaking and there was nothing Hunk could do to stop it. “Don’t leave me.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Fish. I don’t want to." Lance let out a miserable moan, too afraid of making things worse even if he knew he had to try something. Hunk loved him so much. He was broken in too many places, and he was terrified, but the pain was quieting, replaced by a numbness that he welcomed too readily. That he would welcome completely if it didn’t mean he had to let go. “I’m scared. It hurts, I don’t know… I don’t know what’ll happen.”

Lance couldn’t stop crying, but the horror on his face faded around a shaky smile. It was forced and painful, but it was everything he could offer, all the strength he had when his best friend needed him most. He’d burn the last of his breaking heart to give Hunk one moment of peace.

He took his lover’s hand, so strong and skilled but always so gentle and kissed his fingertips where they trembled.  “I’m right here. I’m always going to be here,” Lance promised, and a surge of affection twisted in Hunk’s shattered ribs.

“I don’t want this to end. The islands, I don’t want, and you please…” He was crying now, and he couldn’t stop, chased by a terrifying paralysis that stole all the color in his world. “I don’t want to die.”

Lance curled into him, holding on as tight as he could because Hunk couldn’t hold on at all. The last thing the Earth god Kanloan heard before he died was his best friend telling him he loved him. Slowly his body melted away, the last whisper of his power turning him into stars. The dragon caught a final, flickering spark between his fingers and he held on with all his might, binding it inside his pearl so he could cling to the tragic memory of the most wonderful person he ever knew. 

Lance never stopped.

It the years that followed, the great South Sea Dragon emerged, carving his territory in a corner of Manalanta’s kingdom that he protected fiercely. The wisest of dragons could never explain the choice, or why one of their brightest seemed so dull and faded. The humans might have understood it the best. Lance watched them from afar, the people who Hunk had loved the most. Sometimes he still saw their mighty warriors bearing all too familiar dragon tattoos that were suspiciously shaped like koi. It was the sweetest of tortures.

Humans were well-meaning but fickle creatures, and as time wore on, they forgot about the Islands’ greatest creator, even if Lance never could. They kept their traditions but seemed to forget the truths that shaped them, and he had to be more careful about his visits. Without a tie to the Islands, he was seen as a monstrous guardian, but all Lance could remember was terrorizing crabs on the Island shores. 

He didn’t want their worship if it meant their fear. That was the gravest insult he could give Kanloan. Lance would never bother his family, so he kept his distance. It was a lonely, bittersweet existence, and as long as he was suffering, the Sea God seemed satisfied. 

But Lance tried to make the most of it. Kanloan’s Islands were masterpieces above and below the water, and Lance found countless places to hide and explore. Then one day, he found out he wasn’t alone.

He didn’t remember much of that first boy, but he remembered his smile, gap-toothed and almost as sweet as it was daring, without a hint of fear. He remembered how his pearl burned.

Time was a mortal concept and he didn’t know how much had passed before he saw him again, that same familiar light constrained in human flesh that could barely contain it. Even Manalanta couldn’t truly kill a god, but without his immortality, Kanloan didn’t exist. He was mortal and fragile, a laughing warrior that smiled so widely that Lance’s heart broke, and no memories of the god he used to be. The dragon rushed to remind him, overeager with tears in his eyes and no understanding of just how careful Immortals had to be with such short lived creatures.

He took to watching for the spirit of his best friend reborn in his human prison every lifetime, learning the lessons of time and mortality that a dragon could barely understand. Lance learned to avoid his scales. After fighting so hard to becoming a dragon, he bound himself in a human form and swallowed his power down. A quick exhausted nap at the bottom of the ocean missed two human lifetimes entirely, a trip to find the perfect shell to gift his childhood friend saw him return when Hunk was already bent with age and withered. 

“ _I knew you’d come back_ ,” Hunk had said, softer and frailer than Lance had ever heard him, and the dragon held him until the very end. Lance cried just as hard as he had the first time.

It was too much of a risk to be himself when Hunk’s entire life could pass in a blink of his eye.

He lost Hunk in every lifetime, loved him and was left behind over and over again. Sometimes, he could woo the human into his arms and others, had to watch as his best friend fell in love with another human. The pull of his mortal heart for another was just too strong for a dragon to overcome. He refused to hide in his scales, fleeing out into the open sea, and learned to love it with a feathery hat and rusty sword. When all he could see over the horizon was water, sometimes it didn’t hurt when he thought about Hunk spending his life with someone else, and the ache for his true shape almost soothed. He always found his way back to the Islands in the end.

Lance never abandoned his friend and never left him alone. He’d promised Hunk.

Legends sprang up around them, a warrior in every generation touched by the South Sea Dragon itself and marked as the Chosen. A great protector of the islands and favored among the Immortals. Lance played his role each time, unable to help himself as he picked out the infant with the godly glow, shifting into a child himself so they could grow up together as best friends, and every time, without fail, Hunk called him on his shit and laughed.

And still, Lance never gave up searching for a way to return Hunk’s immortality, travelling the world so he could find the answer. He collected powerful relics, shrinking them with magic and hiding them with his pearl of wisdom in his hat, but always missing the final piece. The most important piece. With the Gates of Heaven closed, the stars were just too far away to steal. 

Sometimes he raged with frustration, at Manalanta, at fate, at himself, and at anyone who came in between. He swore again and again that he would give up, that _this_ life would be the last one he cared for. Every time, Hunk made the world light up. Every time, Hunk reminded him why he fell in love in the first place.

Then one day, when the sea was calm, his pearl flared to life with a strength Lance had never seen. Lance rushed back to the Islands so quickly, he almost used his tail. There was a small boy on the beach, swathed in red and a bright smile. He was hard at work. He piled sand glob after sand glob on top one another, building what promise to be an intricate fortress and Lance's heart ached.

He ran across the shore, human form shifting and twisting until he was three feet tall, knobby-kneed and made of elbows. And promptly tripped over a crab. The waves came up to smother him.

He didn't hear the other boy gasp, or see him knock his sand sculpture over in his haste to get to Lance.

"What're you doing there? You could have gotten hurt!" The little boy wailed, helping Lance to his feet and looking around like he could figure out where the stranger had come from.

Lance's heart crashed against his ribs, and he couldn't help but grin, puffing out his chest with all the pride it could carry.

"Hi, I'm Lance, and I'm a dragon."


	15. Chapter 15

Days turned into weeks as the four continued their trek, led by blind instinct and the knowledge that they were being hunted by agents of the Galra and the dawning equinox. No matter what they did, Allura’s golden compass refused to point the way, so they followed the sun west away from the Islands and hopefully away from the enemies that stalked them. They found safe passage to the mainland where they exchanged lush jungles for rolling hills and mountains cut with terraces with deep rice paddies that were tended to by remote villages. They stopped where they could to replenish their supplies, trading Queen Alunsina’s gold for whatever food the rural merchants could spare and always asking about the Temple of Heaven.

No one had ever heard of such a thing, so they kept pushing west, following ancient roads that wound through deep valleys between the green and yellow mountains. They never stopped anywhere for long. Anyone who helped them would be in just as much danger as Hunk’s village.

A pall had fallen over the travelers, their easy camaraderie worn away. Hunk withdrew into silence, and Lance avoiding him completely. Even the pirate’s nonstop chatter was silent. Shiro was exhausted, waking them all up each night when the nightmares came for him and sending him screaming from sleep. Keith closed himself off and focused entirely on the mission with no patience for anything or anyone else. Every spare moment, he held the compass in his hand, whispering pleas and curses at it to try and make it work.

At night, Hunk worked some kind of culinary magic on their supplies to make the simple fare delicious. He roasted rabbit that Lance had managed to catch over the open campfire, seasoned with herbs he’d sent Keith and Shiro to find. As soon as the dragon had filled his bowl, he retreated back out into the deepening shadows around their campsite to keep watch as a gentle breeze rustled through the fields.

No one mentioned how often Lance went on watch.  
  
“This is delicious, Hunk. Thank you,” Shiro said, still chewing on the tender meat. He and Hunk had exchanged their Islanders’ garbs for less distinct Sun Kingdom robes, and Shiro had taken to wearing gloves anywhere he could.  
  
“No prob dude, you know what they say, a good meal guides good nights. Not that it’s worked yet. I mean.” Hunk trailed off, and Shiro winced sympathetically but not before noticing Hunk’s unhappy frown. The warrior looked towards the surrounding fields like they held all the answers he needed. Shiro guessed that in some ways they did.   
  
“How did you learn how to cook like this?”  
  
The question surprised them both, and they turned to Keith as he picked at his meal. The soldier looked up and scowled at the attention, but he didn’t take back his question.  
  
“Oh. Well. My mom taught me.” Hunk admitted, flushed with quiet pride. “She loved it. She makes her own jam and makes the best sticky rice cakes. When I moved out, I missed that, but at least I could always visit her. It’s um… not so easy now.”

“I grew up with priests at the Temple of the Moon.” Shiro said with a smile, Keith looking over sharply. The prince never talked about his life before being captured and it was strange to see him relaxed enough to open up. “It’s tradition that all children of royal blood are raised away from the capital to focus on their spiritual responsibilities. The priests were very wise and powerful, but they never really could make a decent meal. It was all about simplicity, they didn’t even eat any meat.” He chuckled as Hunk gaped in horror.

“What about sweets?”

Shiro shook his head. “Nope. I always looked forward to when I could visit my mother in the capital, I could gorge myself on as many sweet buns as I could hold, but I always ask for them when I visit, so the orphans have something to look forward to. I never really learned how to cook either, I guess I’m more like the priests than I thought. Trust me, I’m really glad you’re so skilled.”

Hunk smiled, feeling proud of himself. Their mission was so dangerous and enormously important, it was overwhelming sometimes. It was nice to turn to the things he loved that connected him back to his home and to have other people appreciate it. He poked the campfire with a stick and watched the sparks float up towards the night sky.

“Do you ever miss home?”

“All the time.” The prince said. “I miss my friends and my family. My whole life is there and honestly, I feel a little lost right now.”

The warrior wrapped his arms around himself, the firelight flickering across his face. “I miss home too. Nothing is the same anymore I feel…it’s like there’s something else inside of me.”

Hunk looked at his hands. No one could tell by sight alone that something had changed, but there was a constant prickle of energy that ran beneath his skin. It wasn’t painful, it wasn’t demanding, or alluring, but it was there. Like a stone between his toes, a difference he could almost get used to. Hunk wasn’t sure if he was more worried that he would or wouldn’t. “I’m not sure I want to be home like this. I could hurt someone.”

His voice was small but steady in resignation. Hunk startled when Shiro squeezed his shoulder, inching closer in a way that seemed too brave now, but Hunk leaned into him all the same.

“You used your powers to save them.” The prince reminded. “They already know what you’re capable of. You’re a hero.”

This was the most they’d talked in a while. Hunk suspected he might regret it later, but right now, all he felt was a giddy sort of relief, knowing that he could finally share the burden of his secrets.

“Sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore. Sometimes it feels like I’m becoming someone else, and I don’t know if I like that person.”

Shiro was silent long enough to draw uncertain stares, and to let fear fester behind Hunk’s warm brown eyes. When he found the courage to speak, it seemed like the fields had quieted to listen. “I think I know how you feel. In my dreams, sometimes I don’t know if they’re just dreams. I think more of them are memories than I’d like them to be, and they get… violent. And I’m the one holding the sword.”

“You dream about hurting people?” Hunk couldn’t keep his voice from squeaking and Keith did his best to not look like he was listening as intently as he was.

“Sometimes. I don’t know if they’re dreams or if they’re memories.” Shiro rubbed his hand against his metal palm, the silver flickering with faint light. “There are people dressed as crows and I don’t know how many. I’m fighting and it hurts, but I keep going until I cut one of them down. It’s like I can actually feel them die, but then I get pulled back into this darkness until I can’t breathe and I wake up.”

 _The Druids!_  Keith recognized the description, they were the only ones who wore the crow masks and wore cloaks of black feathers. It was said that the crows were their eyes, watching the Empire and reporting back as spies. They were the ones who wielded the Galra’s corrupting magic and had ordered the killing of all the Sun Kingdom’s priests decades ago. There were whispers in the Garrison that they weren’t even human. That they were some sort of immortal demon wearing a human shape and covered their faces so no one could see the burning holes where their eyes should be. They were the ones who had tortured Shiro for all those months. Had he actually managed to kill one?

Hunk shivered. “That sounds scary. I have all these memories too, but I can’t keep them all straight. There’s just so  _much_ , I was…Kanloan was so old. I don’t think people are supposed to remember that many years all at once.” His voice shook slightly and he twisted his hands nervously in his lap. “I don’t know if I’m really me anymore.”

Shiro leaned into his space, nudging their elbows together, and Hunk almost fell into him. He scooted down to rest his shoulder on Shiro’s shoulder, watching the fire with a distant, faraway stare. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re very brave, and what you’re going through is impossibly hard… But you don’t have to go through this alone.”

"We’d help you if we could,” Keith whispered.

Hunk cracked a smile, still too small and still too tired. His eyes were drawn to the far end of the camp, just beyond the fire’s light, as if he could see the pirate beyond, but the rest of him didn’t follow. “Thanks guys. I mean it. And… And it goes for you, too. We’re all in this together.”

A new silence settled over, one no longer fraught with tension or melancholy. That would come back in the following days, or hours. The night always seemed the perfect time for doubts to grow, but for now, the company of friends helped alleviate the worst.

Shiro moved first, squeezing Hunk’s hand with his human one, before slowly pulling away. “I think I’ll go check on Lance. Make sure nothing ate him." 

The warrior opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and just nodded. Lance cut a pathetic figure, but he couldn’t face him yet. Too many doubts and fears crowded out all the words, he didn’t even know where to start. He watched Shiro move off through the tall grass and touch the pirate’s shoulder, leaning close to murmur in his ear.

“It’s hard, you know?”

Keith looked around before he realized Hunk was talking to him. “Uh, what is?”

“I love him, but I can’t tell him now because I don’t know if it’s real. I don’t know what’s  _me_  and what’s the person I used to be. I don’t even know if he likes me for who I am or for who I used to be.” Hunk looked down at his folded hands, his voice soft and laced with a quiet loss. It struck Keith like a blow and he couldn’t keep himself from glancing towards Shiro. He didn’t remember anything either, did he feel the same way? Did he love Shiro for who he was or just because he missed who he used to be?

His Shiro was gone forever, why couldn’t he just let it go?

“I’m sorry.” His apology sounded hollow, but Keith tried to offer what comfort he could. “You’re a good guy, Hunk. I think he knows that.”

“You’re a terrible liar, dude, but thanks.” Hunk shot him a weary grin before tossing another log on the fire and standing. “I’m going to turn in for the night. Someone wake me up when it’s my turn to keep watch.” He headed off towards the small tents, barely thick enough to keep out the starlight, and lay down on his bedroll hoping sleep would claim him quickly so he could stop the angry storm of questions in his mind.

Lance would keep first watch. He always did nowadays, and Keith started putting away their dinner, covering the tracks of their camp to make leaving in the morning faster. It was a routine they’d all grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. They might have trouble getting along, but they still worked well together. Keith used to think that was all that mattered.

He caught himself before he could look towards Shiro.

That was becoming routine, too. He slipped up sometimes, far too often than he would have liked, but he kept telling himself that he would get better. Occasionally, he believed it, too. During their time in the Garrison, Shiro hadn’t told him anything about the family he’d left behind. At the time, Keith had assumed he wasn’t interested, like Keith wasn’t interested in his dead parents. Now he was reminded of how little he truly knew about the man he’d loved. He had every reason to put the past behind him. Yet for every difference he found, Shiro showed him the truth of his heart and Keith didn’t know how to quit.

A rustle in the tall grass caught his attention, just a flicker of motion in the corner of his eye. Shiro, was always his first instinct, the name on the tip of his tongue before he swallowed it down, but the moon played her best tricks in her kingdom. He thought he saw something. He could almost make it out, a place where the shadows seemed even darker, if only he could-

“Keith?”

The soldier spun around, his hand going to his hip, only to find that he’d left his machete by his tent. A trickle of  _something_  raced up his spine, but Shiro was watching him with concern in his eye. He kept his distance. Nowadays, Shiro always kept his distance.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” Keith snapped, harsher than he meant to be and bristling with hostility. Shiro was still patient, and that only made Keith worse.

“I thought maybe we could-”

“We can’t. I don’t have time for this.”

“Right.” Shiro said stiffly. “Sorry.”

It was easier to be angry than hurt and he lashed out, shoving his way passed Shiro to get back to his own bedroll. He didn’t look back to see the prince’s pained expression, but he could feel Shiro’s eyes on him from across the camp until he threw himself down and pretended to sleep.

The fragile peace was gone with the morning light. They walked and trusted fate to get them to their destination.

The villages they passed were small and miles apart, each one just a ramshackle collection of small homes clustered together as wide fields stretched out in every direction. Rice paddies cut through the mountainsides and the blooming rapeseed turned the world a bright yellow as far as the eye could see. It would have been beautiful if Keith didn’t get the feeling he was being watched. He kept his hand on the hilt of his knife, a subtle fission of tension running through his body as he kept his eyes on the empty fields and glared distrustfully at any peasant farmer they passed.

Shiro was slower today as the weeks of exhaustion took their toll. His arm ached down to the bone, the touch of metal to flesh almost burning. He tried to ignore it as just another phantom pain, but sweat beaded across his pale skin and every step forward felt like a war.

They passed a farmer with his ox and cart, and it was that smell, that smell. Like scoured metal.

_“Make him kneel.”_

The voice was used to unquestioned obedience and a sharp strike to the back of his knees sent Shiro tumbling to the ground. It was hard to focus his eyes, sweat stinging and mind swimming with magics and poisons. They’d pulled him apart and put him back together again, some kind of living doll to stitch whole. Shiro almost felt like laughing, thoughts slipping sideways on the thin veneer of sanity.

The armor was heavy across his shoulders, so thick Shiro was sure it was crushing him, and yet his back never bent. It felt like steel had replaced his spine. When he acted as priest-prince, he’d been dressed in soft cottons and silks that had been blessed with incantations and promoted flexibility over durability. Now the smell of polished gold and sweat filled his head, just faint enough to notice. 

At the base of the Emperor Zarkon’s great throne bowed his most prominent, most powerful generals. All of them were Galra. Shiro couldn’t make out any of their faces.

He knelt above them, dressed in the finest armor of the Sun Kingdom’s treasury. Armor fit for the war heroes of the Golden Horde. Armor fit for their true heirs. Shiro paraded it around as an insult to both himself and its owners, and the only one close enough to see the bruises that peaked out from under his collar and the blood he dripped on the ground was the False Emperor himself.

“The time to strike is upon us.” 

Zarkon’s voice was like vinegar on an open wound, sharp and cutting, but Shiro didn’t have it in himself to scream. “Our enemies’ cowardice will serve them no longer, for we will take away their greatest weapon, and the White Lady will fall.”

Shiro knew he should be fighting, screaming, launching some furious hopeless attack on the Galra Emperor. He was so close that there was a chance he could end things here and cut off the end of the serpent. Once Zarkon was dead, the rest of his Empire would fall and Shiro’s Kingdom would be safe, but he couldn’t get his disobedient body to move. Zarkon’s voice cut through his mind like a knife and held him still, impaled on the Emperor’s words.

“Our newest Champion will help us crush our enemies once and for all.”

The crowed around him cheered as Zarkon’s hand landed heavily on Shiro’s shoulder. He couldn’t keep from leaning into the touch slightly, a silent acceptance. Something finally broke inside of him and laughter welled from his chest. He laughed until he couldn’t breathe, tears streaming down his face as the Galra celebrated.

He came back to himself screaming, fighting to tear non-existent armor from his body. Keith stood helplessly beside him with hands outstretched like he was trying to help, but unable to get too close. Shiro’s stomach lurched and he panted for air, hands and knees in the dirt and sweat dripped from his face. He tried to reassure them, his immediate reaction to apologize, but his mouth didn’t want to form words. Shiro only managed a low moan as Keith finally snapped into action.

“Lance, get him some water. We need to give him a chance to rest. Shiro, Shiro can you hear me? What’s happening?”

His right side was engulfed by heat, and Shiro didn’t know that it glowed an eerie purple, pulsating with hateful magic. Keith should have stayed back, where it was safer, where Shiro couldn’t hurt him, but he crouched by the prince’s side, always so full of bad ideas when other people’s safety was concerned. “Shiro look at me.”

“Mom.” Shiro rasped, eyes faraway and glazed. He looked at Keith and saw through him, saw a thousand miles away, into the cruel eyes of a damned soul. “They’re going to hurt her. They’re going to hurt them. We have to stop. Stop them, we have to- I won’t fight. I won’t.”

His arms trembled, just as Keith pulled him in. Shiro sighed, as he fell. His skin felt like it was crawling over prickly nerves, and all he could do was hold on.

“They can’t… They won’t.” Keith reminded him. His fingers were in Shiro’s hair, and he kept his arm wrapped around Shiro’s shoulders, but he didn’t push for more. He was everything Shiro needed. “No one can get to the Moon Kingdom. Not even Allura, and she’s a goddess. They’re safe, Shiro. They’re all safe.”

Shiro shuddered so violently, he thought he was going to be ill. “What about you?”

“I’m fine, just focus on you.” Keith said harshly as Hunk gave a sympathy groan from behind them.

“If he’s going to be sick, I’m going to be sick.” He warned as Keith shot him a death glare.

“Just back off and give him room to breathe.” He snapped as Shiro slowly pulled away apologetically.

He was still pale, hairline damp with sweat, but he was breathing easier. Shiro offered them all a shaky smile as he tried to put himself back together again. The dreams were one thing, but he’d come to expect the nightmares every time he closed his eyes. This was something new, the hallucinations trying to swallow him whole while he was still wide awake. He was starting to break, he could feel it, but Shiro covered everything with well-meaning lies. “Sorry, I really am okay. There’s nothing wrong, I can keep going.”

Lance shook his head and the feathers on his hat waved irritably. “No way, dude. If you’re sick, we should rest. We’ve been pushing it pretty hard this last week, we can take a break for half a day.”

“I’m not going to slow us down, I’m fine.” Shiro protested, but the others held firm until he finally relented. A break could do them all good, he wasn’t the only one bone weary and worn down. He sighed heavily and spread his hands in surrender. “Okay, you win. Hunk and I will start setting up camp, Lance can go find us a source of water, Keith can grab whatever firewood you can find.”

The orders were familiar and the others fell to their tasks, though Shiro could feel them watching him with curiosity and worry. He pretended like nothing was wrong, dismissing the hallucination like it had never happened and focusing on the work. When the shadows finally lengthened and they gathered around the crackling campfire as Hunk whipped up his latest creation, Shiro distracted them with stories of his own reckless childhood to keep them laughing.

He told them of the first time his powers manifested and he accidentally turned his sparring partner into a rabbit and cried when he couldn’t turn her back. He shared the time he and his cousins had stolen all of the dessert buns during one of the rare formal dinners at the capital, hording the sweets in big bundles in their bedroom until the palace servants found them all sick and sticky. Hunk and Lance were beside themselves, laughing with tears in their eyes as they countered each story with their own tales as trouble-making children together on the Island beaches. Even Keith had to smile, though he never quite lost the pinched worry in the corners of his mouth.

Quietly Keith berated himself for it. There had to be a balance between worrying about someone and loving them, but when Shiro was involved, he could never distance himself as much as he wanted to. Keith had been the first one to notice Shiro stopped, the first one to call out to him. And somewhere between his first step closer and drawing him in, Keith realized he wouldn’t have let either one of their companions be the one to hold him.

It couldn’t go on like this, but Keith would never forgive himself for standing idle while Shiro fell apart.

That night, he went to Shiro as the prince settled into his bed. It was earlier than he expected, but Hunk had already loudly proclaimed that he was feeling good enough to do two watches that night. Keith was the only one who saw Shiro cringed in shame.

The moment Shiro thought he was alone, he collapsed into bed, letting go of all his tightly held defenses, and Keith was struck by how familiar that still looked. “Hey…”

Shiro startled, but he gave Keith the most convincing smile he could manage. It wasn’t very good. Keith knew the real thing. “Hey, is there something-?”

“No, I just.” He sighed, and dropped down gracelessly beside Shiro. For a moment, a flicker of real emotion spread across Shiro’s face. “I just wanted to apologize. For last night, I mean. I didn’t mean, last night I didn’t really mean to.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” Shiro hastened to reassure him, but Keith winced. Keith missed a beat, drawing out the lull in their conversation, but he still remembered when that didn’t feel so awkward. Then Shiro reached out for him, gently touching the back of his hand.

“Are you going to hate me forever?”

Keith recoiled he he’d been burned and he caught the way Shiro’s face crumbled. He cleared his throat to cover his flustered mistake. “Just sleep, you need to get your strength back.” It was a lame and he was ashamed of himself as soon as the words escaped, but there was no way to stuff them back inside.

The prince didn’t answer, just rolled onto his bedroll without a word and let Keith leave his tent, kicking himself the entire way.

How could he be so stupid? Shiro was being nothing but kind and it was all Keith’s fault that he couldn’t let go. They should be able to be friends again even though they’d never be anything else. He might not remember anything about them falling in love, but he was still Shiro. All the same ways his eyes would light up, the same dumb jokes, the same way he’d take charge of any situation, the same patience and ability to inspire. Keith was the one who kept reaching out to Shiro and then knocking his hand away when Shiro got too close.

The answer was clear even though Keith didn’t want to admit it. They couldn’t be friends, not when he was still in love.

He needed distance to get his head on straight. It was like he could still feel Shiro’s warmth on his skin and the way his smile could taste. It clung to him, chasing him out into the darkened fields and always one step behind him like a shadow.  _Let him go! He’s gone, let him go._

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice called out softly behind him and the soldier hunched his shoulders.

“What?”

Shiro was farther away than he expected, standing in the tall grass with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he smiled, and Keith’s heart caught in his throat. It was a smile he hadn’t seen in a long time, one that was just for him. When Shiro turned away, it felt like Keith had been carved open, and he let out a pained whimper, taking an unsteady step forward before he even noticed that he was doing. “Come on.”

“Shiro - Shiro wait. What about camp?” The protest was halfhearted at best. Keith already chased after Shiro. He’d forgotten how fast Shiro could be. It almost felt like the prince was gliding on air. 

Shiro stopped, but only turned to look over his shoulder, and Keith caught a promise of that bright smile. 

Shiro sounded like a song.

“Come on, I have to show you something.”

Keith’s pulse raced, and he raced with it. The ground was soft beneath his feet, uneven and sloping as they moved deeper into the forest. Branches whipped across his cheeks and vines clung to his ankles, but he couldn’t slow down. He couldn’t give up. Shiro was always one step away from him, his maddening, taunting smile just out of reach. It consumed Keith. Longing burned in the center of his chest, slowly devouring him like a flame at through wick until he was drunk on it. He was close, he was always so close, and when Shiro turned to laugh, Keith laughed with him.

The soldier had no idea who he was chasing, or who was chasing him.

“This way!”

“Come on, here-”

“Keith hurry.”

“Keith!”

His lover’s voice echoed in his ears, stroking over his skin the way Shiro would when he welcomed Keith into his arms. Keith had a thousand chances to turn away. He never would.

He ran until his legs gave way, but it was alright. Shiro was there to pick him up.

In the center of a large clearing, Shiro was bathed in the light of his Moon Goddess, almost godly himself with the promise of her power, and serene with a calm that Keith hadn’t seen since he’d shared his bed. He was beautiful.

Keith held his breath as Shiro looked at him, the heat of desire in his eyes, and shivered under the intensity. “I know what you want.” There was a teasing edge to his voice now, a slight mocking that made Keith bristle but drew him closer irresistibly. His eyes never left the prince. How had he never known magic coursed through Shiro’s veins? He barely looked human tonight, so enchanting that he held Keith captive with his eyes alone.

“W-what do I want?” He said gruffly, but any last resistance melted away as Shiro curled his fingers around Keith’s jaw. Shiro brought him close enough that he could feel the shape of the words against his lips.

“Me. You want me to love you again. You want me to remember. I can read it on your face, it’s the first thing in your thoughts.” Keith should have jerked away, throwing up his walls again to keep his distance and protect himself. He should have been more careful, but Shiro’s hands were in his hair and his eyes fluttered closed, body arching into the prince with a shameless, desperate need.

It had been so long and he’d wanted so much.

“You’re not-” The protest was cut short as Shiro’s lips found his own, coaxing him open as Keith surrendered with a soft eager sigh. His fingers twisted into the prince’s clothes, clinging to him as he deepened the kiss, Shiro stealing the very breath from his lungs until his head spun and his legs buckled.

Shiro kept them standing with his arms wrapped tightly around Keith’s waist. He pulled back just far enough for a dizzying laugh, nuzzling against the pinked blush across Keith’s cheeks. “I love you.” He whispered and Keith felt his heart leap free of his chest. “I’m always going to love you.”

“Shiro please-”

“I’m sorry, Keith.” The prince said, his voice heavy with sorrow as he stroke his fingers through Keith’s hair. It was longer now, more difficult to manage, but Shiro always knew how to make him feel so good. “I’m sorry it took me so long. I was just… lost.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, I know you couldn’t mean it.” Keith sounded hoarse, tripping over himself to chase away the sorrow on Shiro’s face. Shiro was always so kind, so good. Keith didn’t want him to blame himself for what he couldn’t control. It wasn’t Shiro’s fault that he’d forgotten. He leaned his forehead against Shiro’s, quivering as he felt his warm breath on the swell of his lips, still pinked and wet where they’d been kissing.

“I was scared.” Shiro whispered, and Keith believed him. Of course he was. What the Druids had done was terrible. “I just want it to go back to the way things were.”

Something soft caressed his cheeks, not unlike the gentle pressure that stroked up his arms and down his spine. Keith leaned into it when Shiro tilted into him, drawing him into a kiss. Confident and playful, like they always were after a good training session. Shiro tasted better than he remembered.

“I want to take you home.” Keith confessed. “I thought about it for so long. I thought. I just wanted it. I wanted to make a home with you, in the capital, in anywhere, anywhere we could be. I was so close, just two more weeks and I could’ve freed you, and I-”

“You always fight so hard, Keith. I knew you would save me. I was waiting for you.” The soldier let out a pained sob, and suddenly he was falling into Shiro, drowning in his scent. Keith’s head was spinning, heady with sensation, and all Keith wanted to do was give in. It felt too good not to. “Can you tell me about it? About the life we should have had. The life we can still have.”

Keith had thought about it a thousand times before, guilty little dreams that he’d never been able to shut out completely even when Shiro had forgotten him.  _What if_  they had a chance again? _What if_   they could make it out of this alive? “We’ll get a house somewhere, outside the city now. No one will ever find us. We can just disappear when all of this is over and be together again.” He murmured as Shiro tugged his collar open and slid his shirt down to bare a shoulder.

Gentle kisses pressed against his neck and trailed down to his collarbone. Keith tipped his head back and letting his eyes slide closed in pleasure. His hands were so cold and he unknotted Shiro’s belt so he could run them against his love’s warm sides. “Maybe we can go back to your home.” It was getting harder to form the words as each thought was lost in a haze of sensation. The world narrowed down to the points where they touched, the goosebumps that trailed over Keith’s skin when Shiro traced heavy hands down taut muscles.

“I just don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t.” Shiro promised, stealing another kiss and Keith’s entire ability to think. “I’m never going to leave you again.”

Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck, stretching up on his toes to reach as the prince’s hands settled around his hips to fit their bodies together. His heart was beating too fast, every pulse surging with an electric need to touch until his whole body trembled with it. Keith let the prince slip his tunic off to crumple in the tall grass and shivered. “I’m cold.”

“Then let me warm you up.”

Shiro was tender and sweet as he explored Keith’s throat, lips barely skimming his pulse, like he thought he could break Keith if he pushed too hard, and it was everything Keith needed when he felt so fragile. “I missed you Keith. I missed you so much. I’m so sorry-”

“Stop,” Keith interrupted, pressing in closer so he could rest his head against Shiro’s shoulder. It was this proximity that he missed the most, being able to trust and love so freely, safe in the knowledge that his best friend would never hurt him. “It’s not your fault. They hurt you so much, I couldn’t- I’m just glad you’re here. I’m just glad you’re back.”

Careful fingers touched the tip of his chin, they were soft and human, and Keith knew that was on purpose, knew Shiro wanted to hide the parts of himself that had been hurt. He still went willingly, turning into a kiss the left him shaking, overwhelmed and delirious with want. Keith closed his eyes to fight back his tears, and all Shiro did was kiss his cheeks, gently giving him permission to fall apart. “Tell me more?” He asked. “About our home.”

“I wish I could give you everything.” 

“All I need is you.” Shiro was rocking against him, swaying to a beat Keith couldn’t hear as his hands stroked up and down his back, and all Keith could think about were the lazy nights they spent wrapped in each other, coming down from the most perfect high. 

“We could, we could get a small house. Somewhere in the forests. I think I like them more.” Keith confessed, and he could already see it. A quiet wooden hut in the middle of nowhere, with just enough land for horses to take them into town. “Small but not, not too small. I’m done with palaces. Just something to keep the cold out.”

Wooden furniture, a kitchen outside, those were nice. Those were good, but what Keith saw clearest was a large heated bed, the only real luxury either one of them wanted in their home. They were both too suited to a traveler’s life for either one of them to want more than they could carry.

Shiro tightened his hold around him, and Keith fell down into their bed, with stars in his eyes.

He could feel the warmth filtering through the soft mattress, the sheets cool against his skin as Keith arched back beneath Shiro. He could see their bed, posters carved elaborately out of deep red wood and hung with silks that blew lazily in the breeze. It was the one sign of permanence in their little cabin for two. Moonlight poured like liquid through the window, spilling across their skin with a chill night breeze and Keith shivered in anticipation.

“Keep going.” Shiro said, dragging wet kisses down Keith’s chest, drawing out every quiet gasp.

“We’ll be close enough to a small village but far enough away that there’s no one else but us.” He said dreamily. “In the morning, we don’t even have to get out of bed. We can stay there as long as we want.” Keith laughed, stretching his arms up over his head as Shiro chuckled against his chest.

“We can stay here as long as you want.” Shiro settled between Keith’s legs as the soldier wrapped them tightly around his waist. This was everything Keith had ever wanted, gentle promises and Shiro smiling like the fate of the world didn’t rest on his shoulders. Best of all, he was loved! Keith felt like yelling it to the sky. He wasn’t alone anymore, he was loved,  _he was loved!_

Shiro loved him again.

He mewled into Shiro’s mouth, tired and happy as he let his eyes slide closed to just enjoy the feeling. He almost missed the way Shiro tensed above him and had trouble focusing on the figure that crashed through their perfect moment.

It was a mirror image of the man in his arms, a shadow Shiro stood, as horrid as an avenging demon, his arm throbbing with a deep purple light that crackled around him as darkness spilled from his skin. His eyes glowed an inhuman yellow, lips curled back in a snarl. He stood like a wound in their dream, festering in the darkness of their home and cloaked in the same, but Keith only had eyes for his best friend. “Don’t- Shiro don’t.” He reached out, but his Shiro pushed him away, looking around like a mad man to face their attacker, and his teeth were too sharp and eyes were too bright. Keith fell back with limbs as heavy as steel. “Don’t go!”

It was so cold. It was so terribly cold.

His lover was scared. Keith could see it in his eyes, and he panicked. Keith couldn’t find his sword to defend them against the intruder. He could barely lift his arms, but he had to protect him. The dark Shiro attacked with a howl of rage, Galra magic streaking behind him like a flare.

Keith reached out to grab his lover by the shoulders and pull him to safety, but beneath his fingers, Shiro's body shifted like Keith was holding smoke. Keith held on with everything he possessed, but he was afraid to lose him. 

Somewhere, Keith already knew he was gone.

Lightning quick, his Shiro turned on him before the dark attacker could strike, face melting into something too sharp and narrow to be human. His hand curled around Keith’s throat, tightening, tightening as Keith battered his arm, but he was so strong, strong enough to break bone, and Keith couldn’t breathe.  _I love you,_  he thought as everything he knew fell apart.  _I still love you._

Then his Shiro screamed. A metal scythe ripped through his chest and the room was filled with light, leaving the dark Shiro the only one standing. He turned towards Keith with eyes like the molten sun, terrible and cruel, and Keith cowered beneath him. 

The dream shattered around him and faded away into the night as he tried to hold on to the pieces. 

“No!” 

This is was his future, everything he had ever wanted turned to ash in his arms. He tried to defend himself against this monster that had just killed his Shiro, but the arms around his numb body were gentle and all Keith could do was cry.

“Are you alright?” The darkness faded from around the prince, his eyes flickering back to human as he checked Keith over for wounds. The scythe was still edged in red and a limp body of a fox lay at their feet. Keith stared at it in uncomprehending horror as Shiro cupped his face and tried to get him to focus.

“It was a kitsune demon, a shapeshifter.” He said, all trace of the Galra power gone from him and so solidly human now. “I could feel it, I’ll bet it was another gift from the Emperor. They trick you into your dreams and steal your life energy. I wasn't going to let him hurt you, I'd never let anyone hurt you while I'm here.” Shiro fussed, pulling the soldier into his arms and wrapping his discarded tunic back around his shoulders. “Keith, you’re so cold!”

Tricked by a fox demon? Keith had lost everything again. With a low groan, he buried his face into Shiro’s chest. The real Shiro who had used dark magic to save him, the one who would never remember him. The one who didn’t love him. The pain broke through the walls in his heart and Keith’s whole body shook with each gasping sob. “Please, please, I need you. We can fix this. Just remember me. I need you to remember me it’s all I want, please!” He begged, knowing that it was just a fool’s dream.

“Keith, I-”

“If you remember me that’s all we need. We can be together again I promise, please, I promise I’ll be good. I can’t do this without you. I’m so tired of fighting. Please love me again.”

Shiro let him cry until he was empty and exhausted, wrapped safe in the prince’s arm. Keith was ashamed of himself and his weakness, but he didn’t have the strength to pull away as Shiro wiped the tears from his cheeks and carried him back towards the camp. He rested his head on Shiro’s chest and closed his eyes. Why couldn’t this just end?

Keith lost track of time, his thoughts spinning too quickly to catch, and his skin numb from the cold. When Shiro spoke, he sounded like he was coming from far away.

“You need to rest and to get warm.” Shiro quietly picked their way across camp to Keith’s bedroll and carefully helped him down on the thin mat. Keith heard the words, but didn’t understand them. He lay motionless, looking up with bleary eyes until Shiro stroked his knuckles down the side of his face. Shiro didn’t leave as Keith had expected, instead he slid behind him and wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist to share the heat from his skin. It was more than Keith deserved.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology felt clunky in Keith’s mouth, the words too clumsy and too weak to express everything he meant. The storm he’d tried to fight for so long finally overwhelmed him, and he’d said too much and had no way of taking it all back. Shiro was still here somehow. Keith loathed to think pity made him stay. “I tried to stop, but you are, you were - you meant so much to me. What we had was… I’m sorry. It’s not your fault I feel this way, but I’m trying. I’m really trying to make it go away.” He swallowed thickly. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll move closer to the fire if you’re worried.”

Shiro always had a way of surprising him.

“Can I stay? I want to.”

All Keith could do was nod, and he felt Shiro curl in, his cheek brushing against his hair.

“Keith… We weren’t just friends, were we?”

A bitter laugh bubbled up through Keith’s throat, but when it spilled over, all it sounded was sad. “You don’t know yet?”

“I have an idea,” Shiro admitted carefully. “I just want to hear it from you. I need to.”

Keith didn’t know where to begin, but he tried. He owed Shiro that much. “We were… We were good together. But you were in a bad place. You were a gladiator. A slave. No one knew you were a prince. You were gifted to me as an insult, and we both hated it, but you became my best friend. And we were happy, we were, even through everything. Nothing was fair, but you… I never told you I loved you, but I did. I thought you loved me, too.”

Keith squeezed his eyes shut. All the fight had gone out of him. If Shiro pulled away now, he wasn’t sure what he would do. But Shiro wouldn’t let him go. 

“I don’t know how I feel.” The prince confessed softly, a secret for them to share. “It’s scary sometimes. I can’t tell if it’s all in my head. I’m not sure if I’m just remembering things or if I’m feeling them now, and it’s - it’s complicated. I don’t want to do anything just because I feel things that I can’t always tell are real, but…” Shiro trailed off, and for a moment, his grip tightened around Keith’s waist. He moved to pull away, but Keith wouldn’t let him, and slowly, hesitantly, the prince relaxed against him. 

“The memories with you are the only ones that don’t hurt.”

If Keith had any energy left, he would have cried again. It was too soon to hope after a monster had just used all of his fragile dreams against him, but Shiro was curled warm and real against him, and Keith couldn’t resist. “It doesn’t matter anymore, it’s over.”

“And what if I want to start over?” The question hung in the small spaces between them and Keith used the last of his strength to turn in Shiro’s arms.

“I don’t know if we can.” Keith whispered.

Shiro traced his hand down Keith’s side as the soldier turned his face into Shiro’s chest. “I think I loved you too.”

The held each other in silence for a long time, no words but the beating of their own hearts fighting to find a rhythm together. When Keith finally answered, it was so softly that Shiro wasn’t sure if he had heard it or if he had only wanted to hear it.

“I want to try.”

They stayed wrapped in each other for the rest of the night, sleeping without nightmares until the warmth of the sun woke them. Keith was the first one to open his eyes, sluggish and confused by the heavy weight pressed against him. He rubbed a hand against his face and blinked blearily down at Shiro before the memories of the night before came flooding back into his sleepy brain.

The shapeshifting fox demon, the way he’d almost fallen for its promises, Shiro saving him like some dark god crackling with Galra energy.

Whispered confessions, gentle hands.

Trying again.

He braved a smile, carefully brushing his fingers through the tuft of white hair at Shiro’s brow. Keith had been holding on to the past so tightly that he couldn’t move on and he couldn’t see the man right in front of him. Shiro had loved him, maybe he could love Keith again. Maybe it wasn’t so hopeless.

He was different now, in so many painful ways, but he was still Shiro. Keith watched him pick himself up every day, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he never stopped admiring his heart. Maybe Shiro would let him protect it again. It was all he’d ever wanted and it looked like this time, he might actually get it. Once they found the Temple of Heaven and saved the world, he and Shiro could figure out what that next step would be together.

In his sleep, Shiro inched closer, murmuring softly, but he didn’t rouse. He’d slept peacefully, and Keith knew how precious that gift was. Like he did every morning, he reached for his bag, careful not to disturb his partner. He found his compass without sight. By now he could open the ornate box with his eyes closed. Today, it felt lighter. It was no surprise needle was already pointing at Shiro, but as Keith watched, it slowly started to wobble.

Then in an instant, in swung in a graceful arch, pointing determinedly in a new direction.

_Northwest._

The Temple of Heaven was waiting.


	16. Chapter 16

When Shiro woke, he was groggy, stiff, and blinked face to face with the sun. The prince groaned and rolled over, trying to make himself comfortable only to realize that he wasn’t in his bedroll, and he’d slept past dawn. It was disquieting. Shiro dropped onto his back, unable to shake the feeling that he’d overslept, even if he knew better. If the previous weeks taught him anything, Hunk would wake up soon, and Lance would have to be dragged out of bed, but for now, there was only one other person who would be up and about. Shiro thought he owed him for his comfort.

He pulled himself out of Keith’s tent slowly and stretched up to the sky, standing on his tiptoes. A proper night’s rest made a world of difference. It had been so long since Shiro had felt so settled in his own skin.

Shiro didn’t know exactly where Keith would be, but he knew how to find him. Keith always practiced just outside of camp, somewhere with all the space he needed for his prayer forms. Shiro hadn’t felt confident enough to go after him since that fateful morning on the Islands. He still wasn’t sure, stomach tying itself up in knots as he searched for the soldier. Promises whispered in the dead of night didn’t always survive til morning, but when he caught sight of Keith, he walked faster.

He found Keith practicing in the tall grass, his brow damp with sweat and flushed with effort, and Shiro had to stare. Knowing how important Keith’s rites were to him, he always did his best to respect the practice, but this time, Shiro had to admit he was being a little selfish. He watched the soldier move from one form to another with grace and skill. _Dappled Beams,_ Shiro recognized even if he should have had no way of identifying the prayer. It was only when Keith shifted his stance and fell into a low crouch that he gasped out loud. Keith startled.

“You know our drills!”

Keith picked himself up from where he’d almost face planted into the dirt, but it was impossible to be upset when Shiro was looking at him with such excitement in his eyes. The soldier pinked, flush creeping up the back of his neck that such a simple thing could make Shiro so happy.

“Well, I had a good teacher.”

“Really? I’d think your teacher was shit if he had you taking the stance like that and…oh.” Shiro caught Keith’s smothered laughter. “I taught you, didn’t I?”

Keith nodded, pressing his lips together to keep himself quiet.

“I should have done a better job of it then.”

“I think you did a good job. You were always really patient. You didn’t have to teach me anything, especially after you kicked my butt when I was so arrogant that I thought I could take you.” Keith faltered a little at the memories that only he held. Hunk’s fears echoed back, his position all too similar to Shiro’s, and Keith couldn’t let those same fears break them apart. “I want you to know, that it’s not just because of who you were.”

“Who I was?” Shiro asked, closing the space between them.

His presence made Keith stutter, trying to find the words as he was distracted by the way Shiro’s tunic was only lazily tied and half open to his navel, the broad expanse of his chest on display. He wrenched his eyes back up to meet Shiro’s and was greeted by a sweetened smile. That was almost worst. “What we had together back before…all of this. I know that it’s not the same, I don’t want you to think that I only want this because of who we used to be.”

Shiro turned the words over in his mind, and Keith could almost see the curtain that fell over his eyes, shielding his thoughts. He was raised a politician, Keith realized then. It was hard to remember when Shiro always seemed so earnest, but he had a way of closing himself off. When he was hurting, he hid behind brilliant smiles and an easy charm, and Keith didn’t want to be someone he needed to hide from.

“I’ve changed a lot.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a surprise, but Shiro seemed disappointed all the same. “What if I don’t go back to normal?”

The memory of the man he fell in love with was always so close, but Keith pushed it away again, to see a prince who was so like him but so different, too. A snarl clawed up his throat, and Keith only barely swallowed it down, determined to protect Shiro from anyone who could hurt him, even himself. He didn’t know if he was doing this the right way, but he would always try. Keith had spent too long watching Shiro suffer alone to let himself stand idle.

“Then you don’t. You don’t have to, and you shouldn’t want to.” He insisted heatedly, and his hand found Shiro’s. They both startled at the contact, unprepared and uncertain, but when Keith reached up to cup Shiro’s cheek, Shiro leaned into him. “I don’t think you can go back from things,” Keith whispered. “If something affects you that much, I think the only way you can go is forward, and trying to be something you no longer are just… It just hurts. I don’t want to be with you because we used to be together. I want to be with you because you’re kind, and you’re brave, and you make me laugh. You make me feel safe, and I miss how good it felt to - to love you.”

“You’re not going to miss the person I used to be?” Shiro asked softly.

“Sometimes.” Keith admitted, just as quietly. He wasn’t going to start this on a lie and he pulled Shiro down, stretching up on his toes to rest his forehead against the prince’s. “There were some good moments that we had together and I’ll miss those, but there were others that…you were a slave, Shiro. I was your master even though I never wanted to be, that was how the Garrison saw me.”

“You didn’t want a slave?”

“Never. The Galra brought slavery, I didn’t want to be a part of it. I was working to earn enough to set you free. But now, we can start over again as equals.” He brushed his lips against Shiro’s, the barest hint of a kiss. “As much as a crown prince and a common soldier can be equals.”

It startled a laugh from Shiro as he slid his arms around Keith’s waist like they belonged there. There were fragments of memories, most of them terrible, but a few with Keith’s face. Even if he couldn’t piece them all together into something coherent, Shiro knew that he trusted this man with his whole heart. Equals had a nice ring to it, Shiro could choose what he wanted.

And he wanted Keith.

Even if things were awkward and there were ghosts of the past holding on to them, he couldn’t deny the way he felt. It was more than just his heart remembering things he couldn’t, Keith was special. A Sun soldier of all things, but a friend. It might be impossible to rebuild what they had, but Shiro was eager to try and make something new.

“Your stance is still all wrong.” He murmured, turning Keith in his arms until the soldier’s back was pressed against his chest. “Start again from the beginning with the basic meditation pose.”

“Wh- we were going to kiss!” Keith sputtered around a laugh, but he was grinning as he crouched lower into the Moon Kingdom’s meditation stance. Shiro’s hands were heavy on his skin, slow and sure but clinical with their assistance. They’d done this so many times before, the old memories caught him in a bind. Then Shiro did something else. He ghosted his fingers across Keith’s belly, feather-light touch barely skimming across his shirt, and Keith inhaled sharply.

“Maybe you can earn it.”

Keith went pink.

Shiro was the best teacher. He was never condescending, and genuinely cared about his students. He had a way of making his lessons unforgettable, but for the life of him, Keith couldn’t remember what he’d learned after the prince stepped forward to steady his stance. He pushed down Keith’s knees and locking his calves. It was a precise, familiar step, but Keith could feel Shiro’s heart beating against his back, and his eyes fell shut. He rolled his hips once, even if he already knew better in so many ways, and Shiro tensed.

“Keith,” he whispered, hands flat on his student’s thighs. Then he slipped his leg between Keith’s, told him to bare down on it as his hands settled on Keith’s waist, and the soldier couldn’t bite back a groan.

“Looks like you remember more than you think.” Keith teased, but his voice was a strangled little thing. He almost didn’t recognize himself. Shiro chuckled.

“Is that okay?” Shiro asked, smooth like cream against the shell of Keith’s ear, and Keith could swear he could feel his kiss. “Can you hold this for me?”

Sword-calloused hands wandered up his chest, slowly guiding his posture as Shiro brushed across his ribs, and Keith swallowed down a whimper, arching for him so eagerly.

“Keith.” Shiro berated. “I told you to hold it.”

“I am holding!”

Shiro smiled at the petulant whine. “Second defensive position, and go.” He guided Keith smoothly through the move, bending his body with him as they fit together. The soldier wanted to turn each move into an attack, struggling to find the balance between the aggressive style he’d practice all his life and the more subtle movements of the Moon Kingdom, but they’d had this lesson before, and he could recall Shiro’s old teachings, though they weren’t as colorful as they were now.

“Good.” Shiro murmured, hands wandering beneath Keith’s tunic. “Keep your core tight.” Keith’s muscles tensed under his touch, leaning back against Shiro’s chest to keep his balance. He couldn’t think of anything but the warmth of Shiro’s breath against his neck or the way Shiro’s fingertips traced along each dip and curve like they were relearning his body.

How long had he wanted this?

He was distracted and he wobbled, Shiro holding him steady as they slowly shifted into an offensive stance and back to meditation. “You’re doing great. Maybe you did have a skilled teacher after all.” Shiro was teasing, but there was a hum of electricity in his words, a slight breathlessness that sent shivers of desire racing down to Keith’s groin. He was on fire, every fleeting touch just stoked the inferno that threatened to consume him.

“Shiro, I-” The name came out as a plea, soft and needy, and Shiro bent to answer it.

“YO, FOOD’S READY!” Lance barreled into the small clearing, stopping short as he stared at the pair, clothes disheveled and Shiro’s hands lost where Lance didn’t want to think about. They stared back with wide eyes. “Uh. Is this a new kind of training no one told me about? I’m in!”

“Damn it, Lance!” Keith pulled away with a snarl, utterly humiliated to be caught in such a compromising position. He yanked the knife from his belt and chased after the pirate who gave a high-pitched scream before running away. “Get the hell back here, you asshole. Always ruining  _everything_!”

Shiro sighed and rubbed a hand against his forehead before following after them. “Okay you two, no murder before breakfast.”

 

* * *

 

They were such a small group that the change in their dynamic was instantaneous. Everything was different the moment they sat down for breakfast, just a little too close to each other, and smiling more than they had in days. Some of the tension within their group had bled out, and even if Hunk looked like he wanted to ask about the previous night’s disturbances, one look at their faces stilled his question and replaced it with a smile.

Then Lance asked, “So are you fucking? Because if you are, I have a strict no doodly-doo where I can hear you rule. It’s not my kink, bro.”

In the scuffle that followed, Shiro flopped on top of Keith to keep him pinned, and no one lost any limbs.

They traveled faster now. Their nights were easier, and with the compass guiding them, a new sense of purpose invigorated the group. Keith had to volley too many jokes at his expense, but as long as Shiro was laughing with him, he found he didn’t mind as much. It was only when they reached a quiet village, deep in the valley, that they hit a bump in the road.

The village was unremarkable. They’d seen dozens like it and expected to see dozens more. Trade had been easy for a while. They’d enough practice with it, and knew the language well enough to replenish their supplies.

Then Hunk made a suggestion that they could all get behind. “Hey, now that we know where we’re going, why don’t we get horses? It’d make traveling faster, and I think we have to go through forests anyway.”

Unfortunately, once they heard where the group was traveling, the rest of the village disagreed.

“A demon-infested forest.” Shiro replied with forced nonchalance, looking from one scared villager to another. Behind him, Lance flexed without any sort of subtlety, and Hunk almost swatted him but stopped himself at the last second. “I think we can handle it.”

“You don’t understand.” One old man said, pointing a shaky finger towards the western road. “People disappear in the forest, they never come back out again. They say the demons are invisible, they take people without ever being seen!” He waved his hands frantically, but Lance just smirked.

“We’ve got ourselves a certified demon hunter here, pops. I think we’re going to be okay.” He said, giving Shiro a wink. The villager sucked his teeth at them before shrugging.

“Then it’s your funeral. Good luck, kids. You’re going to need it.”

They set out at mid-day, hoping to make it through the forest before dark. They found the edge only a few miles from town, the bamboo growing so high that it almost blotted out the sun. Little splotches of golden light filtered down between the narrow trunks. It was easy to pick their way through the woody bamboo stalks, Hunk pausing every now and then to collect some tender shoots to cook later.

It was a peaceful place, the trees swaying gently in the breeze and the quiet hum of crickets singing to each other. Shiro breathed in deeply, sensing no tainted demonic presence among the clean scent of things green and growing. Small, worn stone statues of roadside gods dotted the path through the woods and Shiro nodded respectfully.

“I don’t know what has the villagers so afraid, there’s nothing supernatural here.” Shiro said, giving a small shrug. “Maybe it’s just a local legend?”

“I’m glad, I don’t want to be anywhere near a demon!” Hunk said nervously. “I don’t know if I could handle it, let’s just try to stay away from anything with fangs. Or evil spells. Or an overwhelming desire to eat us!”

A bird trilled above them and Shiro paused to look up, smiling as it ruffled its feathers that caught in the light with a metallic shine. Wait,  _what_? “Hang on, something’s wrong.”

It was too late.

A thousand ropes bore down on them from above, crisscrossing like a mesh of nets over them. They came from the very bamboo themselves, living vines that dragged Shiro down in an inescapable web. Lance  _screamed._ He was thrown off his horse, and the beast reared up on its hind legs, neighing in fear before taking off through the bamboo, Keith’s steed not far behind. They’d lost only a moment, and all four of them were down, Keith snarling in his trap, Hunk struggling to get free, kicking and thrashing at enemies he couldn’t see and pale with fear. Lance was too still. Shiro’s arm flared with power, pulsing with the beat of his heard, and he slashed through his ropes, trying to pull himself to his feet. A solid kick connected with the back of his skull and he went sprawling.

They were surrounded.

Their enemies dressed in black and green, slipping in and out of the forest like they were born of it. Shiro only caught a glimpse of them. Every time he tried to get up, they knocked him off kilter, attacking like a pride of lionesses. His side started to ache.

“Shiro!” Keith yelled, out of breath and pained.

“Help!”

Then the ground was shaking, hard enough to send him to his knees. Ropes tightened and snapped, and a burst of lava cut through the opening. The forest was alive with screams, but none as loud as Hunk’s, sharp with terror and too much pain, his eyes milky white and blind but still the lava rose. Shiro lunged for Keith, Galra arm burning through his ropes and pulling him free, but their enemies recovered faster.

“Get him! Stop the witch!”

Flames raced up the bamboo stalks, scorching them black and filling the woods with a thick, choking smoke. The ground heaved so hard that Shiro stumbled down to his knees as Hunk threw the world into chaos. A blur of green leaped down from the trees, whirling a bamboo pole above its head. With a quick smack, the attacker sent Hunk reeling backwards and broke his concentration. The warrior’s eyes faded back to human and the ground stopped its shaking, the cracks still oozing bright red lava and smoke.

The figure whirled almost faster than the eye could see, throwing some sort of metal device at Hunk. It split, lengthening into thin ropes with weighted metal ends that wrapped around the warrior like a fly caught by a spider and Hunk tipped over to the dirt.

Lance howled, dragging himself up to his feet as he pulled the very moisture from the bamboo trees, leaving them hollow husks as the water circled around him. A second device sent him tumbling backwards, arms pinned to his side and cursing.

“Stop!” The high pitched voice rang out across the smoldering clearing as the green-clad warrior pointed her staff at Shiro and Keith. The other warriors surrounded them with swords drawn. “Some kind of Garla infiltration force? You have three seconds to tell us why you’re here before we run you through.”

“Katie, we told you to stay behind.” An older man pulled the young warrior back with a hiss. “You’re supposed to stay at the temple, let us handle this.”

“No way! If they’re Galra agents, they might know where my brother is.” The young warrior fumed. “I’m the one who captured their witches, not you. You’d have let the whole forest burn down before you figured out how to stop them.”

“We’re not Galra we’re just travelers!” Shiro insisted, but his arm flared with power, and he knew what he must have looked like. He could feel Keith at his back, finally detached from his trappings, but the odds were still stacked too heavily in their favor. This wasn’t a fight Shiro thought they could win.

Then Keith gasped. “You’re the Jade monks. I never thought-”

And to Shiro’s surprise, he bowed, before slowly lowering his weapon.

The Jade Forest was more a legend than any set place, and it was often joked that any forest could be Jade. It and the monks who inhabited it were considered legend, the last true pocket of resistance within the Sun Kingdom. Scholars and historians at their core, the fighting monks specialized in a lesser known fighting style that the Sun Empress introduced to the first humans, the ones who were still more spirit than earth and could battle on the wind. Their school never acknowledged the False Emperor. Because of that, they were decimated.

Rumors of their survival crept up like weeds, the same way people liked to believe that the Golden Empress would come down from the skies to smite the invaders.

Keith was humbled to meet the last living monks. It was shocking to see they were actually real.

Shiro took a long hard look at his back, before following his lead. It might have been a mad risk, but he trusted Keith’s judgement. He always had.

“You’re not with the army?” The girl accused, poking her staff threateningly at Keith who kept his hands raised and his head bowed.

“No. I was a soldier, but I left them.” Keith said, risking everything that these monks were still loyal to the Sun Goddess. If he was wrong, he was going to get them all killed. “We’re fugitives from the Galra, the Emperor himself is trying to hunt us down. We’re trying to get to the Temple of Heaven.”

There was a quiet murmur among the monks, but the little girl looked unconvinced. “How do we know that’s true?”

“Katie, please.” The older monk put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and pulled her back. “You need to go back to the monastery and let us handle this. We can take it from here.”

“But they used magic! That one’s tainted with the Druid’s magic, I can see it. What if we can’t trust them?” She protested, but he deftly maneuvered her away.

“Can we move or are we going to get shot again?” Lance said with annoyance as he crawled over to Hunk and gently pulled the ropes away from him to check him over. The dragon was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder, but he ignored it to fuss over Hunk and make sure that he hadn’t been hurt. Hunk looked frightened, more of himself than the monks, and for once didn’t push Lance away. “Yes we used magic, but you guys attacked us first. Kind of rude, bros.”

“Who are you?”

One of the monks made the mistake of stepping forward. Her hand outstretched towards Hunk, and Lance snarled. The sound echoed through the forest, a threat sharp enough to quiet the very wind, and the monks gasped. Lance’s face was etched in bright blue scales, his eyes cold and inhuman. They took too long to fade.

“I am the Dragon of the Everlasting Sea, and you hurt what’s  _mine_.”

Beside Keith, Shiro had gone deathly still, all too sensitive to the shift in their conversation. The air crackled with the potential of power, so sharp even the most obtuse would notice. They might not be able to win this battle, but there was no doubt that they could fight through it. The monks slowly realized they were dealing with something far bigger than themselves.

“Lance…” It was a soft, strained warble. Hunk gently stroked down the pirate’s side, his face tucked against his best friend’s shoulder. His face was stricken pale, and brow damp with sweat. He didn’t even notice what he was doing. Lance always made him feel safe. “Quit stealing the scene, bro.”

Then Shiro cleared his throat, getting to his feet slowly, making the most of the distraction. His smile was charming, but there was an authoritative edge in his tone that carried it farther. “Can we finish this talk inside?”

The monks exchanged a worried look before reaching a silent decision and sheathing their weapons. “Very well, follow closely. If any of you so much as whisper a spell, we’ll end you.” The eldest monk warned. It seemed to mollify the young girl who huffed and watched them warily as they helped each other back to their feet. Lance glared at them all, skin still mottled with iridescent scales and teeth too pointed as he kept himself pressed to Hunk’s side.

The monks flanked the travelers, leading them through the forest to a narrow hidden slot between the mountains. They ducked into the small cave that widened as it emerged back into the sunlight into an ancient set of stone stairs carved into the mountainside.

They wound their way upwards, the monks unaffected, but the four travelers were sweaty and breathing heavily by the time they made it to the top. Shiro paused at the top of the stairs and  _stared_.

The monetary was ancient, the old limestone stained dark and covered in thick green vines that hid the buildings from view. Broad courtyards and plots of tended land spoke of hundreds of residents, even if he could only see a fraction of the people living in these hallowed halls now. Worn carvings depicting scenes from battle decorated the buildings under peaked roofs, and giant statues of meditating gods sat under the leafy canopy, their faces almost washed away by centuries of wind and rain. Standing behind the collection of buildings and looming over the monastery was a giant statue of the Sun Goddess carved into the mountain itself. The faintest gleam of gold still clung to her face as she smiled serenely down at her devotees.

The monastery was bigger than the entire city that housed the Temple of the Moon.

As the path narrowed, their guard arranged themselves around them. Shiro caught a glimpse of the spirited young monk disappearing down one of the corridors before they moved on. They were ushered through long, meandering halls, separated by polished wooden and paper panels, and lead to an office near the center of the stronghold. Row after row of shelves filled with scrolls lined the walls, and unlit paper lanterns hung from the high ceiling. They removed their shoes before walking onto the office mats.

An intricate shrine to the Golden Empress spread across the back walls, and below it, raised on a lacquered dais was an old monk, his head shaved bare, with long wooden beads draped around his bony shoulders. He was swathed in rich green robes, and when he looked up at them, he smiled.

“It has been a long time since I sensed a Child of the White Lady graced us. Welcome my friends, to the Jade Monastery.”

“We’re honored.” Shiro said, swallowing down his surprise with a bow as Keith followed suit. Lance remained standing, glaring daggers at anyone who so much as looked at Hunk. Keith couldn’t keep the excitement contained anymore and took one step forward.

“I can’t believe all this is real! The Legends said that the Jade Monastery was destroyed by the Galra decades ago, how have you all managed to survive?”

“Very carefully.” The abbot said with a smile. “And with help. Most of us were wiped out during those initial years of Galra control, but we have survived and remained true to the Lady of the Sun and her teachings.”

Shiro nodded solemnly. “We appreciate you bringing us here. We’re on our own mission to escape the Galra.”

“A child of the Moon, a deserter, a dragon, and an earth god.” The abbot named them all in turn, startling them with how much he seemed to know about their little band of travelers. “My people thought you were advance scouts for the Galra, the entire Sun Kingdom army is marching through the valley on the other side of the mountain. If you would have continued on your path, it would have led you straight to their encampment.”

“The  _entire_ army?” All the color drained from Hunk’s face and he looked it. “You mean like, thousands and thousands of Sun Kingdom soldiers all together ready to crush us flat?”

“Their true destination is unclear, but they march west and north through the mountains in a glittering golden horde.”

“The Temple of Heaven.” Shiro breathed and everyone turned to look at him. “They’re marching there, Zarkon must know somehow that we’re on our way to stop him. Soldiers can’t travel quickly, if the entire army is already ahead of us, they must have left months before we did. We have to find a way to get around them!”

“But what does he want with the Temple? He can’t even use it.” Keith said pointedly, looking from each person in their little group, each with their own part to play in opening the Gates of Heaven. They still hadn’t found all the bloodlines they needed to open the Gates, but he worried now about Allura. “Would he send the entire army after five of us?”

“He’s going to destroy it.” Hunk spoke so softly, his words were almost lost under the chatter of conversation, but the group quieted to face the warrior now. “He’s going to lead a march against Heaven, so he has to have another way to get there… He doesn’t need the Temple.”

“Then we have to get there first.”

“Their path is the only true way to the Temple you seek.” The Abbot said. “The mountains are impassable unless you stay on the roads, no one has ever managed to scale them. There are rumors of another path, a dangerous path westward, but it leads to the Heixi desert. It is too dangerous to cross.”

Shiro spoke for his group, decisions made and loyalty reaffirmed with a single glance. They were in this to the end. “It’s a risk we’ll have to take. What does the route look like?”

A quiet footstep made the Abbot paused and the young girl from the forest bowed deeply. Her expression was clouded and unhappy, her lips pinched white and jaw locked, her hands balled into fists like it was all she could do to contain her rage.

“Katie.”

The Abbot didn’t raise his voice, but his brows furrowed, and for the first time, unhappiness cracked beneath his welcoming smile. The youngest monk lowered her head in a jerky, tensed motion. “I have a status update, Master.”

The Abbot dropped everything else for her. “Very well.” He nodded to the closest monks, murmuring, “Please show our guests to their rooms. We will convene in the evening, in the Eastern Library. For now, rest. We have much to discuss.”

As they were lead out of the hall, Shiro sent one last glance over his shoulder, at the petite brunette in rich greens. There was something about her that gave him pause, but the more he thought about it, the more it felt like he was trying to recall a dream.

 

* * *

 

By the time they reached their rooms, Lance was scale-free, at least, anywhere Hunk could see. Shiro and Keith were in separate rooms across the hall, within shouting range and also possibly lava-range. Hunk hoped they never had to find out. Literally, never. There was so much in the monastery that should have caught his attention, but after a terrible morning that started with mortal peril and ended with climbing a mountain, all he did was collapse on the closest cot. It was like lying on a plank. He was never going to move again.

Mortal peril.

At his own hands.

Hunk pulled his pillow closer, as Lance bustled around the room, loud and obnoxious, filling every ounce of empty space like silence repulsed him. It was like they’d never fought. Hunk had forgotten how big Lance could be. He missed it more than he thought. It was a distraction, another in a long line. He was exhausted. If he could just nap, he wouldn’t have to think about it for a while, wouldn’t have to remember how heat raced across his arms, how it was welcoming and familiar, like slipping on his favorite vest. How easy it had been to manipulate, and how quickly everything had burned.

“Hey, Hunk?”

The warrior startled, but squeezed his eyes shut, his hands curled into fists where they were hidden under his pillow.

“Don’t ever do that again. You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Hunk’s voice was small and his breathing hitched. Something beat inside of him like a drum that made him feel too big for his skin. He had been friends with the magical, he wasn’t supposed to be one of them. The power inside of him could have killed people today and Hunk had been so lost in it, he wouldn’t have been able to stop. How could he be sure anything was truly _him_ now?

Lance didn’t know how to help, fluttering and fussing protectively around his best friend like he could save Hunk from himself. “We’ll figure out how to control it, okay? We’ll get through this.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore.”

The quiet words cut the dragon to the core. Everything Hunk had been, every life he’d led, it had all shaped him even if he didn’t remember it. He was different each time but also the same. The soul of him never changed, it burned with that same light that had drawn a stupid, selfish, immature koi onto the land and gave him the greatest wisdom he’d ever known. “You’re still the same person. You’re still my best friend.”

Hunk didn’t answer and Lance gently rubbed his hand down the warrior’s back. “Can I stay?” He asked quietly. They needed to talk. There was so many things Hunk needed answered. He just wasn’t sure he could face them yet, not so soon, not when everything still felt too raw. Hunk shook his head, face buried in his pillow where the other man couldn’t see.

“I’m not ready yet.”

“Okay.” For once, there was no argument. Lance accepted the rejection with a quiet grace. “But I’m going to be here for you whenever you are ready. You just let me know, buddy.” He left without another word, closing the door behind him.


	17. Chapter 17

Shiro couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a bed. Sure, the monastery beds were narrow and hard, but it still beat sleeping in the dirt. The stone rooms were small, with only the simplest wooden furniture and a lone candle that he’d blown dark the night before. Morning light streamed through the narrow slit of the window, the mountain air chilly enough that it roused him from sleep.

The first thing he reached for was the empty space beside him. He didn’t want to think too much about that particular reflex. He was expecting too much too soon, but Shiro couldn’t help but spend a few moments wondering what it would be like to wake up next to someone warm enough to keep him in bed.

The insistent rumble in his stomach finally made him roll out of bed and dress, shuffling out to blink dimly at the Monastery courtyard. Steam rose from the kitchens as breakfast was being prepared, attracting a chittering group of monkeys who swung down from the trees to strut confidently across the peaked roofs. One younger monkey yanked the tail of another, setting up a large cry as they chased each other from building to building.

Monks had filed into the large stone courtyard in front of the giant ancient statue of their Empress, performing their morning drills in complete synchronization. Shiro smiled as he recognized Keith among them, black hair pulled back, and a serious expression on his face as he concentrated on mastering each new pose and form. He was only a half-step behind, Shiro had no doubt that Keith would be able to match them by tomorrow. He always did throw himself completely into things.

A bright trill called out to him and Shiro turned to see the little clockwork bird from the bamboo forest perched on a nearby railing. It called out again, hopping forward and cocking its head like it was alive. It looked almost real, but each delicate feather was crafted from the thinnest metal and its eyes were set with sparkling green gems. He held out his hand and the bird fluttered to his finger, tiny claws just gripping his skin for balance.

“What are you?” Shiro breathed softly so he didn’t frighten the bird. It groomed itself, fluttering its silver wings before launching itself back up into the air and winging through the courtyard to a small ivy covered building set with an ancient peeling painting of the Sun Goddess fighting a fanged demon. Shiro chased after it.

Shiro was sure it was going to crash into the wall, but at the last moment, the strange creation disappeared through a hole in the eye of the demon. Shiro gasped despite himself. 

This area of the monastery had fallen to neglect. Every corner of the compound spoke of the toll the Galra’s rule had taken, and the cost of the monk’s freedom. It took him a moment to find the entrance, hidden in a panel of the Goddess’s long flowing robes, just below her sword. Unlike in the corridors of the main building, long shadows followed Shiro’s every step, but the ground had been swept clean. He walked until the flickering lights of an oil lamp caught his attention. A chipper voice greeted him on the other end.

“I told you that you wouldn’t find any meat.”

Shiro stiffened. It was the young monk from yesterday, hunched over her work bench with her tongue pinched between her lips as she fiddled with an elongated metallic device. On a ledge just over her shoulder sat the clockwork bird, still preening its fake feathers, unaffected by its maker’s chiding.

“I - sorry, I can come back some other time?”

The girl looked up, eyes enormously large behind some sort of goggles that made her look like an insect. She pulled them off, blinking at the interruption. She glanced around in confusion, unused to anyone coming to visit her here. “Uhhh, no? I mean, you can stay if you want to.  You’re the Moon Kingdom magician.” It was only slightly accusatory and Shiro gave a low chuckle.

“I guess so. Call me Shiro. Is that bird yours?”

She hummed and held out her hand as the little mechanical bird hopped onto her palm and preened. “Yes, this is Rover. I’m Pidge, I made him.”

“Oh I thought- Katie?” Shiro started.

“Katie or Pidge. Master Abbott’s always so formal about it. I don’t mind.” With a wry smile that said too much, she added. “It beats Chris, anyway.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Pidge. And Rover too.” He offered the young monk a bow and the metal bird chirped happily. She watched him warily as he wandered through her workshop, half-finished projects lining the wall and tables filled with bits of scrap. Carefully detailed designs in labeled scrolls took up every available space and Shiro stopped in front of one with a low whistle.

“What is this?”

“It’s nothing!” She snatched the scroll away before he could get a closer look. Her face burned with embarrassment, unsure of what to do with a stranger looking at her unfinished designs. “Just an idea I had for a machine that lets people fly. I know it won’t work, I don’t need to hear it from you too.”

“I wouldn’t actually know,” Shiro admitted. “But you made Rover fly so, I guess it’s possible.”

Pidge preened, then did a terrible job of pretending she hadn’t before busying herself with putting away her scrolls. “Rover’s a completely different system,” she pointed out, tone matter-of-fact, until a small smile graced her features. “One of my favorite ones though.”

“Did you make all of these?” Shiro asked, gesturing to the wall-to-wall designs and scraps of machinery. 

“Who else would? I’m going to revolutionize the Monastery someday.” She proclaimed proudly, but something soured her tone, and Shiro thought there was more to that story than she was sharing. Pidge cleared her throat. “But uh, I have a lot of work to do. As you can see no one else is doing anything.”

Shiro didn’t seem in any hurry to leave as he carefully poked a small brass lantern that flickered with a faint light even though no flame burned inside of it. “How do you make all these things? Is it some sort of magic?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.” Pidge said, folding her arms over her chest as she watched him slowly make his way around the room. No one had ever shown so much interest in her work before and she was a little unused to the questions. “I’ve always been able to build things or take them apart to figure out how they work. My brother liked to call it a talent.” She hesitated a moment, a brief pause that spoke of pain and loss before plunging on.  

“No one thinks it’s anything more than a distraction. They’re so focused on the way things used to be and making sure we preserve the ancient way of life, that they refuse to even consider the ways we could change to be better. Like this, look!” She rummaged through her designs and pulled out one scroll. “This can improve our irrigation system. Or this-” She pulled out a small metal bundle tied with ropes. “This can take down enemies at a distance safely without killing them.”

Shiro picked up the device with a rueful smile. “Is this what you used on us?”

“Oh, well… yeah. But it worked, didn’t it?” She took it back quickly and tucked it away. “I’m not saying that we get rid of the old ways, it’s always important to remember things and to keep the things that work. But what’s wrong with trying to make things better too? I just, I just want them to be okay. We’re losing everything and I’m trying to keep them safe, but I’m not as good at fighting as they are and I-I” Her shoulders slumped. “I want to help.”

“Shiro? Shiro! Is the breakfast this way, we’re starving.” Hunk and Lance tumbled into the little workshop, looking around expectantly. Lance’s face fell when he realized they still hadn’t found the food, but Hunk’s eyes widened in shock and he gasped in delight.

“You guys do know that the food here will probably be vegetarian.” Shiro asked. He knew a thing or two about living with monks. Lance deflated on cue, but Hunk didn’t look like he’d even heard him. He’d made a beeline for Pidge’s work station, hands outstretched and his smile cutting his face in two.

“What is this?” Hunk asked, but picked up a set of blueprints like he knew exactly what he was doing. He held the drawing one way, then flipped it upside down, searching for its real life counterpart before Pidge could squawk her indignation. “Sorry dude, I don’t read glint.” He said, though his accent in the language was nearly undetectable.

“Give that back!” Pidge demanded, but before she could start gnawing on his ankles, Hunk gushed, “Is this a counterbalance?”

He poked the little device, a mess of copper and steel, and it teetered on the edge of Pidge’s table, before sliding down the table leg. Then it slowly started climbing back up. Hunk crouched beside it, poking at a few limbs. “Dude this would be perfect for walking through bamboo.”

“I know. That’s why I made it.” Pidge sniffed. “You’re looking at Rover’s new extension.”

Hunk looked like he would pass out from excitement.

“Nerd stuff.” Lance proclaimed. “I willingly walked into nerd stuff.”

“Oh my gosh, is this what keeps it balanced?” Hunk gushed, practically dancing from foot to foot. “And how did you power something like this, it’s so small and it’s not overheating at all.” He poked one finger at Rover who peeped and hopped back shyly.

“I invented a little friction motor in him.” Pidge relaxed slowly, charmed by Hunks exuberance as she let him poke around her workshop. “No one’s ever really cared about all this stuff before?”

“Are you kidding? This is genius! I could spend days in here just looking at everything you’ve done.” Hunk said, making the young monk blush happily. Lance just leaned in the doorway, patting his stomach to try and draw attention back to the most important topic. Namely himself.

“You’re the only one.” Pidge sat down on a stool with a sigh. “Everyone’s so set in their ways. They’re afraid that changing means we have to give up something of what we are, but if we don’t change, we’re going to lose everything. We can keep everything that we believe in, we can just do it better. The Galra aren’t going to stop. They’ve taken almost everything, if we don’t do something, we’re going to disappear.”

Lance tipped his hat at the monk. “That’s why we’re going to stop them. This right here is the Scion of the Moon, he’s got some mystical magical ritual thing that’s guaranteed to stop the Galra once and for all! Or that’s what we’ve heard.”

Pidge turned her eyes on Shiro, studying him intently. “You really think you can stop Zarkon?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to try.” The prince said softly and Pidge jumped off her stool, sending Rover fluttering up into the air.

“They kidnapped my brother. We’ve managed to keep ourselves hidden for years, but they took him when we were out in the valley one day. It was my fault, I wanted to go see the Dragon’s Beard flowers in the valley. They don’t grow on the mountain and he took me…we didn’t see the soldiers until they found us. Matt wasn’t ever a good fighter either, it sort of runs in the family. If you stop him, could you- I still have a chance of finding him.”

Shiro had frozen, eyes locked someplace in the past and struggling to hold on to something that kept demanding his attention. Some missing memory that suddenly came into focus with a startling clarity. “Matt. I  _know_  him.”

Pidge didn’t move, her eyes too wide, her heart in her hand. She spoke like she didn’t understand what she was saying, balanced on a tightrope over tension and panic. “You know my brother.”

Shiro was more cautious, struggling to make sense of the memories that bombarded him. “I think so.”

It was like a switch had flipped inside Pidge, setting her alight with rage and fear. “You know my brother. Where is he? How is he?! Is he alive?!” 

“I- he looks like you. Your hair, your eyes, but taller. He has, there was a scar across his shoulder and down his arm.”

“No.” Pidge whispered, her lower lip trembling as she fought through her fears. “No, he doesn’t. He didn’t. Where is he? Where did they take Matt?”

“The Garrison,” Shiro whispered. “We were together, I think that was where we were. I don’t know. It’s hard to remember.”

“You left him?” Pidge was shaking with horror, suddenly as pale as a sheet. Hunk stepped forward, afraid she would faint. “You left him. At the Garrison. He’s a slave! Do you know what they’d do to him!?”

Shiro looked stricken, drowning in brief flashes and fractured memories that barely made any sense. He had known Matt, they had been friends, and he’d left him behind. He had  _promised_  to save Matt and had failed. Worse than that, he’d forgotten him entirely. Shiro rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead as Hunk paused and moved closer with worry on his face. “I know what they’ll do to him, I was a slave with him. I didn’t have a choice.”

“But you’re here and he’s not!” Pidge couldn’t keep the accusatory rage from her voice, but forced it back and slumped against her table. “Sorry.” She muttered. “He’s the only family that I have left and I’m not going to just abandon him to the Galra. If the whole army is here, then they might have records on where they sent him. I’m going to infiltrate their camp and get what I need.”

The dragon lounging hungrily by the door suddenly snapped to attention, his thin body whipping himself upright. “Whoa, what? Back that up a little. One kid going up against the entire Sun Kingdom army is a bad idea. There’s no way you’ll be able to get in and out without being captured or killed. Those guys don’t mess around!”

“You think I don’t know that?” The monk snapped. “I can’t ask anyone here to go with me knowing the risks, but he’s my brother and I’m not going to just give up on him. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to fight anybody. I can get in and out before anyone sees me, you people didn’t see us in the bamboo forest until we were right on top of you.”

Shiro cleared his throat. “You’re going to need some help.”

“I don’t need any help. I’ve been planning this for a while and with the army so close, this is my chance. Especially now that Matt- Matt’s still alive.” She paused and swallowed. “Or was alive the last time you saw him, right?”

A heavy expectant silence filled the room and Shiro could feel it in his bones that this was a bad idea. The young girl didn’t have a chance and it was his fault that her brother was still in captivity. He couldn’t let her death be on his conscience too. “I’m going with you.”

“Shiro!”

“Wait, dude-” Lance and Hunk talked over each other, but Pidge was watching him like she thought he would disappear at any moment. She was brilliant and brave, but incredibly fragile all in the same breath. This may have been a bad idea, but Shiro couldn’t see it as a mistake. He shook his head and held up his hand to stop them. He’d made up his mind, and nothing was going to change it now.

“I’m going with you, but we’re going to need a plan.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro was going to miss the Jade Monastery. He could already tell. So much about it reminded him of his childhood, growing up with the priests. The structure of their days, their compassion, even their diet all stroked the strings of his memories. 

Leaving would be hard, but they’d already stayed longer than they could afford. They’d have left earlier if they could, but Keith’s compass insisted on the closest route to the Temple of Heaven. With the Sun army blocking them, it was useless.

The Abbott and his scholars had found a map through the Heixi desert. It was a difficult task. The wandering sands of the Heixi desert were legendary. It was believed they never stopped shifting, and as such, the landscape was notoriously difficult to navigate. The map was brittle with age, but enough of a guideline to keep them safe.

Everything was as it should be.

Then his door burst open, and Keith stormed into the room. He looked livid.

“Shiro. You’re here.” It was clear from his tone that he hadn’t expected Shiro to be, but the soldier regrouped quickly, focused like an angry bull and just as difficult to redirect. “Lance told me the stupidest thing. He said you were leaving with that monk to attack the Sun army. How stupid is that?”

All he had to do was look at Shiro’s face to have his answer.

“What is  _wrong_  with you?” Keith fumed. “You’re the one we have to get to the Temple of Heaven. It’ll be hard enough as it is, and now you think you’re going to be able to just sneak into the most highly trained army in the entire world, somehow find the one scroll that may or may not exist, all for some slave that we don’t even know is still alive? That’s insane!”

“Keith.” Shiro tried to calm him and reached out for him, but Keith was too wound up to go.

“No, this is stupid! This is beyond stupid. I don’t even think there’s a word for how stupid this is. This is impossible and you’re throwing your life away for something meaningless. It’s not our fight!”

“Keith, please.” He insisted, trying to break into his friend’s rant. “I left him behind. I promised I’d help and I forgot him, it’s my fault he’s still there. It’ll be a quick in and out, once we have the information we need, we disappear. No one is fighting, I just have to do something.”

“No you don’t! You don’t have to do anything, you can walk away and let that girl throw her life away on something so dumb because…b-because…” Keith’s voice wavered, so furious that he could barely control the way his hands shook or tears prickled in his eyes. He didn’t resist as Shiro pulled him close again, embarrassed by his own outburst and the way emotion had overtaken logic. 

“I’m not going to die, but I can’t walk away when a little girl is going to put her life in danger because of me. It’ll just be the two of us, I can use my magic to track anything with his name on it and we’ll be hidden the whole time. I know it’s a risk, but we can do this. We’ll meet you by the edge of the forest before you even miss us.” Shiro promised.

Keith keened, voice muffled where he pressed his face into Shiro’s chest. “I’ve already missed you. You’re going to die. I lost you once, I’m not going to watch you throw your life away again. I can’t. Shiro, I  _can’t_.”

“You’re not going to lose me.” The prince tipped Keith’s head up, wiping away the angry tears and kissed him.

It was tender and sweet, undeniable but irrefutable. Better than any fantasy with Shiro solid and real against his skin. It was everything Keith had been waiting for. It was how Keith knew this was goodbye.

His eyes stubbornly squeezed shut, and Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, while Shiro’s grip around his waist did the same. One perfect, gentle moment before Keith had to let him go. 

Keith wanted so badly to save him, like he’d promised all those moons ago. Now he realized that he never really could. The prince was a hero, but he was going to find his way to an unmarked grave, and Keith wouldn’t be able to protect him when the Galra decided how to send him there.

“I’ll be back soon,” Shiro whispered against his lips. His hands felt so big as they cradled Keith’s cheek, like Shiro could stop time if he just held on long enough. Keith knew he would never succeed. Yet he still wanted to believe he could.

“It’s not your fault.” Keith hissed. “It’s not your responsibility to save everyone.”

“Matt was the first friend I had there. I can’t just leave him. He’s… I owe him so much. I can’t turn my back on him, Keith. I’d never forgive myself.”

“Stopping Zarkon will save him.”

“You know that’s not true.” Keith knew. Shiro was gentle with him even now, even as he broke through Keith’s resolve with gentle hands and careful kisses. It was the sweetest torment, each kiss was fragile as a butterfly’s landing but they cut through his skin until Keith was broken open and bleeding. Keith knew how important loyalty was as surely as he knew that he fell in love with Shiro’s bravery, and yet he couldn’t stop shaking.

“Are you only doing this to placate me?”

“There’s never an ‘only’ when it comes to you.” Shiro murmured, trailing his fingers down Keith’s jaw, teasing against the clenched muscles.

“This isn’t going to convince me.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I could want you without any ulterior motive?” Shiro said, watching Keith sputter a furious, embarrassed protest. He brushed his fingers through the soldier’s hair, winning a quiet breathy sigh before Keith caught himself with a scowl.

“That’s not what I meant.” He said, but didn’t pull away. “You don’t have to do this.”

Shiro smiled against Keith’s lips, tugging on his hair just hard enough to get him to expose his throat so he could drag open mouthed kisses down Keith’s racing pulse. “I want to be with you. I want to remember how you taste and the way you feel. I want to know every inch of you like I used to. I want to relearn everything that makes you smile and that makes you moan. But only if you want it.”

“Y-yes.” Disarmed and uncertain, the word came out a stuttered strangled groan as Keith wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck and yanked him down into a needy kiss. Maybe this was just a distraction, but his body ached and Shiro somehow remembered exactly how to play the tension inside of him until he felt like he would snap.

And suddenly, all those weeks of frustration and looks and confused feelings shattered in a rush of eager hands and breathy gasps. Shiro lifted Keith in his arms, the soldier bracing his legs around the prince’s waist as they tugged at stubborn robes that cruelly hid bare skin. Keith’s back hit the stone wall with a solid smack as Shiro kissed the air from his lungs, hips slotting together and already half-hard.

“Did you like it like this?” Shiro rasped, his hands sliding over Keith’s thighs and pushing up his tunic before he reached between his legs to touch him. He stroked him through his clothes, panting eagerly against his lips, and Keith still couldn’t answer him, bucking and writhing against his trap. The prince worked his way down Keith’s jaw, biting and nipping until the skin around his throat was flushed pink beneath his teeth, and his lover was a writhing mess. “I’ve thought about it before, about holding you like this. I’d dream about it, about how you’d feel beneath me. The noises you’d make, the way you’d ask.”

“Shiro!” Keith butchered his name around a groan, digging his heels into Shiro’s lower back, spurring him on like a show horse, and Shiro’s hands moved lower, cupping his ass. His fingers pressed into the spaces between him in the filthiest promise, but he couldn’t go further, and Keith’s pants felt so damn tight.

“Or in my lap, riding me so good. How you’d hold on so tight, how deep you’d go. Do you want me bent over for you Keith? Was that real?” Shiro’s voice hitched, the faintest sign of worry, but there was an earnestness in his words that turned Keith so hot, he thought he’d collapse. “Over your bed, with my legs spread and your mouth on me, inside me. Was that real? Did we do that?”

He looked so genuine that Keith couldn’t keep from snarling into Shiro’s mouth, clawing at his robes with a feral need to touch. If Shiro had forgotten everything before, Keith would make sure he remembered every second this time. “I want to watch you.” He croaked through red bitten lips. “I want you on the bed and ready for me.”

The smile Shiro gave him was almost sinful, a look from a debauched priest that left Keith slack jawed and stuttering. He let the soldier down, leaning him against the wall before stepping back as if he needed to catch his breath. But Shiro wasn’t done playing as he unwrapped the silk belt from around his hips and let his robe fall open. All Keith could do was lick his lips and try to remember how to breathe as Shiro dropped his clothing piece by piece to the stone floor, revealing every inch of skin.

He looked the same underneath, the same toned body, the same broad shoulders, and the same narrowed waist with its faint curl of dark hair running beneath his belly downwards. He was still thick and eager, cock hard against his stomach, its tip pink and already glistening. But there were scars now, deep and ragged like he’d been cut apart and put back together like a rag doll. He wore his trauma for Keith to see and met the soldier’s eyes with a look of defiance as if to say  _this is what I am now_.

“You’re beautiful.” Keith hadn’t meant to speak, the words slipping passed his lips, but it turned Shiro’s false confidence into something shy. The prince shuddered, momentarily unsure, before Keith cupped his cheek. “Lie down on your back.” He ordered and Shiro obeyed, sprawling on the narrow bed with his hand slowly working between his legs.

“Tell me what else you want.”

Towering over Shiro, with his lover stripped bare and wanting, Keith didn’t know where to start. He leaned over, his hand splayed wide across the corner of Shiro’s hip, fingers just skimming the edge of a raised, angry scar. A place that had been cut over again and again, the skin mended in a jagged, uneven line that looked like it had been fused back. Shiro shuddered as Keith traced its length. It would never fade completely.

“Everything.”

It would always be everything.

“Touch yourself.” He ordered, pressing his thumb in, just to watch Shiro’s hip go white then flood with color. “I want you hard for me. And I want you open. Is that okay, Shiro?”

Shiro was flushed with want, his eyes nearly blown black and nodded eagerly, but still Keith hesitated, until Shiro could whisper a hoarse, “ _Yes_.”

“Here.” Keith took his hand in his, slowly guiding him between his legs, and Shiro was too ready to follow. Keith ghosted over the soft skin between his thighs, running his fingers over his cock until Shiro curled his fist around himself. The sound he made was a hungry thing, strangled out of him like it hurt, and Keith was just getting started. He dragged his nails across Shiro’s abs, savoring the feel of tense muscle playing beneath his hand and across his ribs.

Then Keith kissed a spot over his heart that looked like it had been split open, hearing Shiro’s breath come in labored gasps as he lingered. His teeth scraped over Shiro’s skin, biting his taut nipple and soothing it better, as the prince quivered around him. “And here.”

He marked every scar with a kiss, biting and teasing against the thickened skin until Shiro cried out. He absolved him, loving each flaw and mapping them across Shiro’s body with gentle fingertips and slick tongue. “You’re doing so good for me.” He whispered, the praise jolting a startled breath from Shiro’s lips.

Maybe Keith had forgotten what it had been like in the year he’d only been able to dream about Shiro’s touch too? Or maybe it was just the anticipation at seeing Shiro stretch back across the bed, his entire body on display for him and no one else that made him feel wobbly at the knees. He watched hungrily with half-lidded eyes as Shiro pumped himself with long sure strokes, squeezing a drop of precum from his slit before sliding back down his cock, his other hand on his chest, playing with himself obscenely.

“Stay right there.” He ordered and stood to rummage around in their travel packs while Shiro made a soft noise of protest. The healing kit was easy to find and Keith opened a little stone jar to spread cool cream on his fingers.

Keith knelt between Shiro’s legs, the prince’s thighs trembling with the effort to widen them, and hesitated. The first time they had been together, Shiro had been too uncomfortable for this, too reminded of what the Galra had done. “Are you okay with this?”

“Yes!” Shiro whispered again. There were no shadows of nightmares in his eyes, just the slightly unfocused, heady need for Keith’s hands on his body. “I want you to fuck me.”

The soldier groaned with want, circling one slick finger against Shiro’s tight entrance before it yielded and Keith slowly fucked him open.

He clenched around Keith, drawing him in like a hungry mouth, the promise of so much debauchery Keith almost fell apart. He loved Shiro like this, loved making him surrender to helpless pleasure as he gasped for air, struggling to keep himself steady even as his eyes fluttered shut. Keith watched Shiro touch himself, too absentminded to have any intent beyond his own needs, his fingers pinching along his hardened nipples, teasing and rolling the sensitive flesh as he stroked up and down his length. It was so hot, knowing he could pick apart Shiro’s inhibitions. Knowing he could make Shiro scream. Keith wanted his mouth on him again, and again, and again. They were running out of time. How he could do all he desired in one night? He didn’t know, but Keith wanted to try.

Keith buried his face between Shiro’s legs, licking between his thighs and dragging a broken, startled gasp from his partner’s kiss-bruised lips. Shiro wrapped his legs around his shoulders, trembling around Keith’s ears as Keith tasted sweat on his skin, Shiro’s sack pressed against his cheek. He painted bruises with his teeth, made Shiro gasp and groan around him, his voice climbing around Keith’s name. A sharp jolt of electricity burned through Keith’s skull, and he felt Shiro’s fingers in his hair, scratching across his scalp.

“More?” Shiro keened so prettily as Keith fucked another finger on him. He was tight, so brutally tight, and Keith was going to leave him sloppy and wet, going to make him close his legs around Keith’s come, make him hold him in until Shiro felt sated and weak. Keith was going to wreck him.

Four in, and Shiro was a mess, whimpering and thrashing as Keith sucked around his stretched cunt, his cock dripping precum all over his hand.

“I forgot how good you feel. I forgot how good you taste.”

“I forgot you were such a goddamn  _tease_ , Keith!”

Keith knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he couldn’t help but feel so damn smug. A prince, a powerful priest fairly electric with magic, a deadly warrior, and Keith could have him writhing around his name with just a crook of his fingers. It was a heady sort of power, one Keith wasn’t sure he could ever give up.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good.” Keith promised. He brushed his lips against Shiro’s hipbone, easing slick fingers out as the prince bucked eagerly against his hand. “You know what I want?” He whispered, licking a wet stripe along Shiro’s skin and blowing on it to watch the goosebumps race across Shiro’s belly.

“Anything.” The prince croaked, head thrown back against the thin pillows and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Say my name?”

Shiro blinked his eyes open and propped himself up on his elbows to look blearily at Keith, the soldier’s lips shiny and his hair messed, breathing heavily but still watching Shiro carefully to make sure he never went too far. The prince huffed a laugh, curling his hand around Keith’s jaw. A gentle thumb traced over his lips, slipping between them. “I want you, Keith. My Keith.”

The soldier let out a shaky breath, grabbing Shiro’s metal hand and kissing the palm just as sweetly as everywhere else. He let Shiro guide him up, lost in his partner’s mouth as he gripped Shiro’s hips. Keith pulled his legs up, sliding down to dig his fingers into Shiro’s thighs and hold him open. When he fucked into him, Keith swallowed down Shiro’s low groan with a smile. He rolled his hips, sinking down into the tight, slick heat as Shiro tensed around him and he almost lost it right there.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He murmured as Shiro bucked his hips up to meet every slow thrust.

The first time Shiro said his name, it was a promise, a declaration that he was here, that he wanted this just as much as Keith. The second time it was an accident, honest and raw, and Keith caught it on his tongue. He was holding on too tightly, his fingers digging into Shiro’s thighs as he buried himself in him, his balls kissing his lover’s taint. It was an agonizing pleasure. It scoured through his nerves, claiming them one by one in white hot flame, and Keith only knew how to make it worse. Shiro fit him so well, drawing him further with every thrust, opening so readily where he was soft and warm, and Keith couldn’t get enough. He kissed down Shiro’s jaw, laving his tongue over the hollow of his throat to coax sweet, broken noises out of him, and Shiro sobbed.

“I’m gonna take good care of you,” Keith swore, as he stroked up Shiro’s sides. His thumbs stroked over his waist, feeling Shiro’s belly jerk with every ragged breath. The prince was trying so hard to keep his legs spread, chasing his own pleasure as Keith thrust into him again and again. It felt so good to be full, like there was a place inside him that only Keith could reach, a craving only Keith could sooth. Keith took him by the wrists and spread them above his head, pinning his hands to the cot, and Shiro arched for him, too far gone for shame. Anything to keep Keith touching him.

“There-” Shiro breathed, eyes rolling to the heavens as want sparked all the way down to his toes. They curled into the sheets and he dug his heels into the cot, letting Keith drag through him, bury himself inside him, so far Shiro swore he could taste him. “There there Keith  _there_!”

Keith’s hips stuttered, losing any semblance of rhythm as he drove into Shiro, chasing release and every beautiful gasping word that tumbled from Shiro’s lips.  _I love you_. He said with every touch of his body.  _I love you, I’m not letting you go again_.

With a broken wail, Shiro shuddered, his spine bowed with tension as he came in great spurts across his stomach. He clenched around Keith, shattering what little restraint the soldier had left. He buried himself in Shiro, filling him, marking him until they both lay panting and spent in each other’s arms.

The silence wrapped around them like a blanket as they both tangled in each other and laughed as they tried to find balance on the narrow bed. They were messy and sweat stained, exhausted and euphoric with the lingering jolts of pleasure from oversensitive skin. Keith dragged his fingers through the slick drops sliding down Shiro’s abdomen, tracing every curve. Happiness settled in Keith and it took a moment before he could identify the unfamiliar feeling. He’d been worried for so long, poised on the edge of losing everything, and now…

Now, Shiro seemed relaxed, half-dozing in his arms and unafraid for the first time in months. Free, hopeful, at peace. “I’m coming with you.” Keith said, nuzzling against the other man’s shoulder. “No arguing. If you’re going on this crazy mission, I’m watching your back.”

Shiro seemed like he was going to protest, but thought better of it. There was no one he trusted more than Keith. “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

Hours later, when the tiny sliver of moon cast barely any light in the darkness and the three crouched in the underbrush to watch the sleepy Galra sentries patrolling the edge of the army’s camp, the deal seemed more and more like a bad idea.

“You really can find anything with my brother’s name on it?” Pidge whispered and Shiro nodded.

“That’s not the hard part. Did you bring what I asked?”

The young monk handed over a scrap of parchment with her brother’s name written in carefully inked characters. Shiro took it carefully, closing his hands around it and whispering a quiet prayer in his native tongue that made shivers race up Keith’s spine. With a flash of silvered fire, the parchment burned to ash, spiraling up on a breath of wind no one could feel and glowing faintly in the darkness. “That will lead us to any of their records with his name, hopefully it’ll tell us where he is.” Shiro hesitated. “But that’s all, Pidge. If he’s not here, we can’t help you track him down or take on the army.”

Pidge looked like she wanted to protest. Grievance cut across her features, but she clenched her jaw and nodded stiffly. There was a rustle of leaves, and a figure draped in black appeared through the bushes. Nothing but Keith’s eyes were visible. Shiro still breathed easier when he was in sight.

“Coast is clear. Stay close. We should go now. Did you do the - thing?” Earlier in the evening, Keith had declined any explanation of the finer details of their plan. He claimed he knew everything he needed to, and hearing more about only made him grind his teeth. In contrast, Pidge wanted to know everything about Shiro’s spell.

The priest held up his hands, palms pressed together in a cup, and at first Keith didn’t see anything. Then he noticed it, a faint glimmer that started at the center of Shiro’s wrists, where his pulse beat the loudest. It was like a sliver of pure moonlight, ever so slightly brighter than the softened glow that touched the earth. Even as Keith watched, the light seemed to disappear, but Shiro was grinning. 

“We’re all set.”

Pidge pulled a cloth across her face, hiding everything but her glasses, and Shiro followed suit.

“Let’s do it.” Shiro said, taking the first step towards camp.

“With any luck, our getaway won’t leave without us.” Pidge muttered dryly.

Keith didn’t say a thing as he took up the rear, but he quietly conceded that certain pirates had a decent record of running away from trouble.

They crept through the shadows of the camp in single file. Shiro lead them through a long, winding path. The whispers of their sleeping enemies seemed to creep through the night, and too often they froze with the rustle of a horse’s uneasy rest. They chose concealment over combat every time one of the Galra sentinels crept too close, but they steadily made their way to the heart of the camp.

Keith never saw the glimmer of Shiro’s spell again, but another unnatural light seemed to cling to the prince. Purple sparking beneath his disguise, where metal met skin.

The precision and order of the Sun Army had worked against them, the Golden Horde nothing if not predictable. The layout of the camp was exactly as Keith described, the sentries posted just how he’d outlined, the patrols right on queue. They were disciplined, never deviating from their training. With Keith on their side, they slipped among the tents and sleeping soldiers unseen.

Pidge followed the dim speck of light that guided her on, dancing back and forth as it sought the characters of her brother’s name. It led them across a small clearing, Pidge and Keith dashing across the gap, but Shiro hesitated, pulling back into the shadows of the closest tent. Two soldiers strolled lazily across the clearing, chatting amiably and not on patrol. He cursed under his breath. They could predict the movements of everyone on duty, but the two stealing a few forbidden moments out from under their Commanders’ eyes wasn’t something they’d counted on. Keith almost started back, but Shiro waved him on, gesturing that he’d catch up. Keith retreated reluctantly, keeping his eyes on Shiro until he ducked back into his hiding place.

They were so close and Pidge wouldn’t stop, following the dancing mote of light as it ducked into a large command tent. She peeked inside, seeing it empty so late at night, and dove in to quickly tear through their records books while Keith kept watch.

Across camp, Shiro followed more slowly as he picked his way towards his friends. He paused to rub his fingers against the seam where flesh met metal, his arm aching down to the bone. It set his teeth on edge, sweat prickling down the back of his neck as he tried to ignore it. Now was the worst sort of time to break.

But their luck didn’t last.

He felt the presence before Shiro could see him, an ache like an old bruise, just as deep as the pain in his arm. It loomed over him almost tangible and he stopped to rub his hand against his chest as if he could scrub the feeling from his skin.

“I knew you’d be back.”

The voice sent icy fear racing down Shiro’s spine and he stiffened, turning wide eyes on the smirking Galra Commander. Memories laced through him, razor sharp and drawing blood, an ugly mix of shame, pain, and powerlessness.

Sendak was monstrous. Where his left arm had been twisted cursed metal, pulsating with Druid’s power. It flared with every beat of his heart, and when he raised his fist, Shiro moaned. A sharp, stab of agonizing pain surged through his chest, clawing through from where cursed metal dug into his flesh. Bright energy coursed through his veins, making them gleam through his skin. The prince fell to his knees, his fists digging into dirt as Sendak approached at a leisurely pace. All around them, the camp was coming alive, but the commander already had his prey cornered.

“You always came back, pet. You always begged for more.” His sword hung by his right, turned horrific by the night shadows. Where his golden eye had been, gleamed sleek purple metal. The prince couldn’t look at him.

It felt like Shiro was being swallowed whole, heat lapping at his nerves and sliding over him as slick as oil. He was being taken apart, inch by inch replaced by the force that rattled through his bones. Foreign magic that felt too familiar. Sendak never had the training to release such an attack, but the Druids were more than resourceful.

Shiro wouldn’t let them win.

A spell dragged through his throat, a prayer to his Lady. Without warning, Shiro twisted on his side and kicking Sendak’s feet out from under him, and the commander went down hard. He rolled to his feet, drawing his scythe as he went, its long chain wrapped around his knuckles.  

Sendak had already recovered.

This was the beast that haunted his nightmares, this was the man who was responsible for the fact he couldn’t sleep at night. His lip curled into a snarl, violet sparks flaring where he tightened his fingers around the scythe.

“We’re connected, you and me.” Sendak drawled, slowly advancing on Shiro. “Both part of the Galra Empire.”

“No!” Shiro’s voice was hoarse as he took a shaky step backwards. “I’m not like you!” He wasn’t a monster, he couldn’t be anything like this nightmare.

Sendak gave him a cruel, fanged smile that felt too sickeningly intimate. “You’ve been broken and reformed, just look at your hand.”

“I-it’s not me.” Shiro clenched his fist, but the violet glow pulsed in proximity to Sendak’s, the same Druid energy binding them together. It filled him with its power, whispering promises in his ear. Darkness replaced the silver moonlight that clung to his skin, a haze of shadows shot with purple like lightning from a storm cloud. Sendak just laughed again.

“It’s the strongest part of you, embrace it!”

Shiro snarled, rage blinding him as he launched himself at the Commander. The Galra was strong, his arm big enough to crush his enemies with one blow, but Shiro was faster. He twisted his body like an acrobat, striking fast with his scythe. He cut deep across Sendak’s chest in a flurry of strikes, but he misjudged the Druid enhancements and a swipe of Sendak’s arm sent him flying backwards. He landed hard in the dirt, his weapon disappearing somewhere in the bushes behind him.

With a groan, Shiro pulled himself to his feet and stared down his enemy. Power sang through his body, irresistible, and his eyes filled with a yellow light. The darkness trailed around him like a weapon and he dashed forward again, fist meeting fist in a terrible blow that send a shock wave of energy rippling through the camp.

At his lookout post where Pidge was still stuffing scrolls into her bag, Keith looked up at the sudden flare of energy with a sharp breath. “We have to go  _now!”_

“I’m not done yet!” Pidge snapped, but the tent door flew open. A bright light filled the room. Before its owner could cry out, Keith struck, drawing his sword as he charged. He sliced off the soldier’s hands in one, cool swipe before burying his machete in their chest. The man was dead before he hit the ground. Pidge swallowed down a gasp.

“Let’s go!”

Together they spilled into the night. The camp was on high alert, but no one was looking for them. The sky was punctuate with bursts of light, and every available soldier was rushing to the center of the camp. Keith knew there could only be one reason. “Get to the rendezvous. I’ll get Shiro.”

“You’ll get killed!” Pidge protested.

“If they get Shiro, we all die.” Keith didn’t wait to see if she listened. He took off towards the center of the camp, thoughts speeding through his mind faster than he could read them. Then through the long lines of tents, Keith caught a glimpse of the battle. He expected many things, but not this.

Shiro was surrounded by death. The corpses of soldiers littered his feet. Still gleaming in their golden armor, they were cut open and mutilated, staining the soil red. In the middle of it all, he and Sendak fought, but Keith couldn’t tell which one was the monster.

He’d seen Shiro look like this before, consumed by darkness and eyes glowing bright when he’d taken down the kitsune demon. Keith had thought it had been some illusion, he’d been too wrapped up in the demon’s power to know what was real and what had been part of the dream, but there was no denying it now. The darkness around Shiro seemed to consume the light around it, twisting his face into something inhuman and full of rage. He struck blow after blow against Sendak, and almost seemed like he enjoyed it.

Keith slipped on blood-soaked grass, scrambling to get closer. “Shiro! We have to go!”

It was like the prince couldn’t hear him. His terrible gaze was locked on Sendak, magic sparking from the end of his hand as he brought it down again and again against the Commander’s guard. His arm glowed bright purple, too painful to look at directly, and Shiro wielded it like a blade.

“Shiro!” Keith yelled.

“Get down!” Pidge darted passed Keith in a blur, too fast for him to catch. She cradled something in her hands, small spheres with lit fuses. Keith called out a warning, but it was too late. She threw them at the two fighters and the world exploded with a  _boom_  that Keith could feel echoing in his chest. Sendak and Shiro shrank back from the fireworks and Keith took the opportunity to grab Shiro and haul him away.

“Come on!” He hissed as the prince struggled against him, lashing out like Keith was an enemy. The burning metal hand closed around Keith’s throat, squeezing tight and the soldier choked, hands scrabbling at Shiro’s arm as he gasped out a plea.

A cold wave rippled through his nerves as Keith’s feet left the ground. Panic turned its ugly head.  _Shiro_ , he tried to scream, but the grip around his throat was unforgiving. His ears rang with his pulse, burning with heat as he fought for air. Inhuman eyes stared up at him, callous and calculating, and Keith was terrified.  _Shiro!_

He reached out desperately, banging his fists against Shiro’s arm, but everywhere they touched tremors of power scoured his throat. Pressure built in his chest, his lungs screaming for mercy as darkness dotted the corner of his vision. It grew and grew and grew until it sparked-

Shiro gasped and stumbled backwards, dropping the soldier in a heap. Dazed and confused, he reached out, with only one concern. “Keith?”

The soldier took in greedy gasps of air, smoke filling his lungs. It burned all the way down, but he could breathe. Without warning, he grabbed Shiro, tucking him against him and dragging him away. Every step felt like it could be their last. Shiro was as good as dead weight. Suddenly Pidge was by his side, supporting Shiro’s other side as they hurried towards the fringes of the camp. Keith could barely see the ground beneath him. His ears were ringing, the sound so shrill and so loud, it felt like his head was going to split in two. He still heard Pidge gasp.

On the far end of the camp, a shocking mess of brown hair so similar to her own had caught her attention. Scarred and beaten, even with his features gaunt and haggard, it could only be one person. “Matt…”

Before she could take a step, Keith reached for her, and was surprised to find that Shiro had done the same.

“There’s no time.”

“NO!”

She struggled against his grip, but the soldiers had overcome their initial shock and were forming ranks. They couldn’t stand against the entire might of the army, their only hope was to run and hope they could lose any pursuers in the darkness.

“I can’t leave him!” She reached out for her brother, but Shiro tucked the young monk under his arm and dragged her bodily from the camp. They raced through the underbrush, chased by the sound of clanking armor and shouts behind them. Above them all, Shiro could still hear Sendak’s voice laughing.

Hunk and Lance were still in position with the horses, ready to ride. They burst into the clearing so suddenly that Hunk shrieked.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Keith swung himself up on one of the horses.

“Wait, where are we going?” Lance hauled himself onto his skittish beast that pranced nervously under him.

“The desert, ride! They’ll be here any second!”

They spurred the horses on towards the edge of the forest as Pidge screamed at them at them to stop. Shiro held her tightly in front of him as his horse plunged through the darkness. Any stumble or fall would mean the end, but they could hear the soldiers’ mounts thundering behind them and there wasn’t time to be careful. He whispered a prayer to the lady even though she was a mere sliver above them to watch their desperate flight.

They raced until the forests gave way to sand and the horses’ flanks were lathered in sweat. The desert was a shifting maze and only the monks’ carefully drawn maps could keep them safe, but they raced blindly across the dunes.  

The animals couldn’t outpace trained warhorses and the Sun soldiers narrowed the gap between them. There was no way out, the rolling desert didn’t offer any place to hide and their horses were going to give out soon. This was the end, they were going to have to stand and fight.

Hunk wheeled around, ignoring the way Lance shouted after him, and reigned his horse to a stop as the soldiers closed in on him. One man against an army. Somehow they seemed to approach even faster.

Racing hooves thundered in the wind, but it was almost like Hunk didn’t hear them, closing his eyes and focusing on his beating heart, and the light that flickered in his chest.

With a shout, the warrior raised his hands and a wall of sand rose up.

It swallowed them all. 


	18. Chapter 18

Keith sat up with a wheeze, coughing sand from his lungs and squinting up at the morning sun. Already, the air was scorching hot and each breath felt heavy. He shook his head, brushing the sand from himself as he slowly stood. A few other sandy lumps started to shake themselves, the rest of their team slowly coming alive. The horses were long gone, but their pursuers had disappeared as well. Hunk’s sandstorm had driven the Sun soldiers away somewhere, lost in the endless desert that stretched out in every direction around them. 

Not that they were much better off. 

He found their supplies thrown free from the panicking horses and dug for the map of the desert, hoping they weren’t too far off course. It was what he expected. Driven from the monks’ carefully documented path, and without a single landmark in sight, the scroll was useless. 

A quiet groan made Keith start, and he rushed to Shiro’s side, helping the prince sit. He looked pale under the full glare of the sun and clutched his metal arm across his chest, face contorted in pain.

“Hey, are you okay? Don’t try to move yet.” He said gently as Shiro gave him a weak smile.

“I’m okay. Just a little sore.” Shiro said as Keith’s eyes narrowed. Carefully, he peeled down the edge of Shiro’s tunic to expose the skin of his shoulder. Pale scarred skin crawled with thick violet veins, so dark they were almost black.

Allura’s words came back to haunt him.  _Galra magic corrupts everything it touches._

His fingers brushed against the thickest of them, and Shiro jolted like he’d been hit, catching a moan between his teeth. Keith was immediately remorseful, stuttering out an apology, but it didn’t look like Shiro heard him. The prince slumped against him, his eyes shut as he tried to catch his breath. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Like Hell it isn’t.” Keith snapped, but Shiro’s voice was laced with steel.

“Right now, that’s all we can afford it to be. Where’s everyone else?”

As if on cue, a wretched cough drew their attention. They turned to see Pidge doubled over, holding her middle. Beside her, Lance sat motionless, his blue eyes distant and unseeing, but the hat in his hand looked pristine. In that moment, he was more dragon than pirate, and every movement held a serpentine precision. Until he heard Hunk. He turned to him like a moth to a flame, slipping into his human skin without a thought, to wrap himself around the trembling warrior.

“There’s nothing here.” The dragon said softly. “Nothing but us for miles.”

“Then we have to move on.” Shiro decided. He made a valiant effort to push himself to his feet, but before he got halfway up, he had to stop, curling into himself as the world trembled. When Keith reached for him, Shiro shook his head, and gave his hand one firm squeeze. “Get what supplies you can. We can’t stay here.”

“We don’t even know where we’re going-”

“I’m going back.” Pidge announced abruptly, her voice scathing and eyes hard. “Because  _my brother_  needs me.”

“You can’t go back, there’s nothing there.” Keith snapped as he helped Shiro back to his feet. “We don’t even know what direction the army is marching in. The only thing we can do is keep going.”

“You’re not the boss here! You don’t have to come with me, but I’m going. I’m not leaving Matt behind, I’m the only one who cares enough to save him.” She snarked right back, Rover chirruping angrily from her shoulder.

Shiro reached out to the young monk, ending the argument. “I want to help Matt too, but trying to go back is too dangerous. They know we’re close and we don’t know the way. Without horses, we’ll never make it. We have to go forward, Pidge. But I promise you, we’re going to get your brother back. I’m going to help you.”

She pulled away from him, arms crossed over her chest and fuming, but silent. Finally she gave a jerking nod. She felt like she was failing Matt, but there was no way back across the dunes alone without a plan. “You promise?” She tried to make herself sound as angry as she felt, but she just sounded scared and young as she let Shiro pull her into a gentle hug.

“I promise. You’re not alone in this anymore.”

“Uh, guys?” Lance squinted up at the sun. “Just wanted to mention that the giant dust bowl with no water is particularly bad for a _water dragon_  and it’s about to get a whole lot hotter in this gods forsaken wasteland. So if no one else is feeling like they want to just lay down and wait to die, I suggest we start moving.”

“Ugh, I think I have sand in every crevice in my body.” Hunk shook himself so vigorously that the others snorted a laugh and even Pidge managed a smile. “Don’t laugh! Chafing is serious business. You’re not going to be so happy when you’ve got enough friction in your bits and pieces to start a fire.” 

Keith pulled out the compass, the golden mechanism catching the sun’s glare. “That’s the direction we want to go.”

“Great. Good job. Super proud of you, buddy.” Lance drawled sarcastically. “Any way that thing can show us to the nearest oasis?”

As if on cue, the needle started spinning, heading hard West, and they all exchanged nervous glances. Shiro made the decision for them.

“Let’s move out.”

They were off.

The sun rose quickly, and with it came the full force of the desert’s heat. It blanketed over them, a physical weight that bore down on their shoulders, just as solid as the supplies they carried on their backs. Every step forward felt like half a step backwards as the sands rolled beneath their feet, threatening to drag them down the sand dunes. 

Keith lead the way, his spy’s disguise cut open and spread across his bare skin to protect himself from the sun. All his focus was drawn to his compass. Any thought beyond that was too heavy a burden to bear. Pidge stood a step behind Keith, red-faced and dizzy as Rover flew overhead. Lance walked behind them, quiet and withdrawn, trying to convince himself to keep moving. He’d stopped once, to pluck a scorpion from beneath the sands and drain its tiny form of water. It was nowhere near enough. Shiro took up the rear, leaning against Hunk, his head hanging low, both of them trailing behind the procession. 

Shiro felt like was holding a torch. His metal arm pulsed with heat to rival the unforgiving day, and flesh above it darkened with decay. The prince’s skin was clammy, abnormally cold for such heat, and almost grey. The dark veins had spread, crawling up to his neck.

The sun was past its zenith, but there was a long way to go until night and without any water at all, it was unlikely they’d survive much more than another day or so. If they didn’t freeze as soon as the sun set. 

No one spoke for a long time. 

Then a trilling overhead set them on alert. Rover came winging back to perch on Pidge’s hand, dancing and chirruping excitedly. “Uh, hey guys?” The young monk called out, looking up to frown at the horizon. “Rover says there’s a group of riders heading our way fast.”

The travelers drew their weapons and clustered together as dust rose from distant dunes, kicked up by the approaching riders. 

“The Horde? They found us?” Shiro pushed to the front, his hand sparking violet as he drew on the last of his power.

There was nowhere to hide and no strength left to run. 

Shiro tasted ash on his tongue. His prosthetic arm was trembling, long tongues of power licking up his skin. It was dangerous. Shiro knew that as well as he knew his own name, but in the back of his mind, something dark whispered through his thoughts, telling him maybe this was how things were supposed to be. The magic may have been wicked, but it didn’t have to hurt Shiro.

_We’re connected, you and me._

Lance said Shiro had once called down a storm powerful enough to destroy a fleet of the Sun’s navy. It should have been impossible. Shiro wasn’t like Hunk, a Scion wasn’t a god. His Lady’s gifts had never been so cruel. But the Galra’s curses thrived on cruelty. He’d been cursed, and it was dangerous, but it was also powerful. So powerful. It called to him to embrace it, draw deep and let the darkness flow through his veins.

_You’ve been broken and reformed._

Black spots prickled his vision. The Oath of the Moon spun through his thoughts, the first building block to all of Her lessons, but the silvery light of Shiro’s magic faded and flickered. In the middle of the desert, with sweat dripping down his back and his lips chapped and peeling, Shiro was cold. He’d been drained of what he held dearest and tainted with poison. It swam through his blood, twisting inside him, digging deeper, further. It had taken the best of him. Now it would destroy all he had left.

_It’s the strongest part of you, embrace it!_

“No!” In his own mind, it echoed in a horrible scream, his voice mangled until it was almost unrecognizable, but Shiro didn’t make a sound. The bitter tang of copper spilled down his tongue. There was a flicker of white light, like a star’s dying wish, before he was falling, falling. Shiro was gone before he hit the ground.

 

* * *

 

For a moment, there was nothing but darkness. Then Shiro heard them. Soft but lilting, cautious whispers fighting against the crackle of an open flame and the whistling of the wind to be heard. Something was draped across his chest, and his eyelids felt too heavy. Shiro was unbound, but he couldn’t move.

Lying on a soft cot, his body was unresponsive, like it no longer belonged to himself. Something foreign crawled inside him, just below the skin. Voices whispered insistently in his head, too jumbled to understand, but growing louder all the time as they demanded attention. It was terrifying. 

“Shiro!”

Gentle hands cupped his cheek, holding him steady as a damp cloth was wiped across his brow. Shiro knew it was Keith before he opened his eyes. Somehow, it felt like he’d known it was Keith before the soldier had even spoken, and that was the only reason he wanted to wake up at all.

“Just lie back, don’t strain yourself.” Keith said and Shiro almost smiled at the concern in his friend’s voice. They’d been at each other’s throats, Sun against Moon, since he could remember. He’d been so slow to trust his ancient enemy, and he realized Keith had been reluctant to know him again after what had happened because he was afraid of being hurt. How far had they come when now, all Shiro wanted to do was turn his body into Keith, hold him tightly and never let go. Just being close made the angry whispers fade away.

“I’m okay, what happened?” He croaked and Keith held a cup of blessedly cool water to his lips. He tried not to gulp and made a low unhappy noise when Keith pulled it away too soon.

“A little at a time. Not too much.” Keith watched over him carefully and then eased Shiro back down. Even the slightest movement set his arm on fire, the agony crawling up past his shoulder and down into his chest. It felt like fingers squeezing down around his heart, and he groaned without meaning to.

“I can see if the healer can do something for the pain.” Keith went to stand, but Shiro caught his wrist and pulled him back down.

“It’s okay, just let it pass.” The prince said through grit teeth. “Tell me what happened.”

With an unhappy sigh, Keith settled back down beside him and wasn’t mollified until Shiro turned into him, pressing his face against Keith’s shoulder. Then there were fingers in Shiro’s hair, and a steady arm around his waist. Neither of them disturbed his silver arm. 

“We were rescued… The Monks were wrong about the desert being empty. There’s nomads who live here call it the Lady’s Scar. Supposedly, the Sun Goddess scorched the earth here after her betrayal.” His eyes flicked up to Shiro’s pointedly aware that the prince believed differently. “We’re lucky they found us. They took us to their camp to rest, there’s a little spring out there and I don’t think Lance has gotten out of it this whole time. Pidge and Hunk are dorking out about the nomad’s navigation devices and we’re…I mean…”

He trailed off, not wanting to sound so worried about Shiro’s condition, but the prince only smiled and laced his fingers with Keith’s. “I’m going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that, Shiro. Even their healers don’t know what’s wrong and I saw what the Galra magic is doing to you.”

“I think I can make it better.” Shiro said, with more confidence than he felt. He steadied himself, summoning a healing spell, his expression carefully neutral. Shiro couldn’t let Keith know how slowly his powers had come to call.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Keith repeated, but the first touch of magic against Shiro’s arm flared with a sharp stab of pain, like washing an open wound. Then a numbness spread from it, seeping deep into his very bones. Shiro held on as long as he could, even as gooseflesh broke across his arm and his vision blurred. It was worth it in the end.

When he collapsed, Keith pressed closer.

“I could use that healing clasp you used to have about now,” Shiro mumbled. They needed to talk. They needed a plan. The Glara were hot on their heels, but Shiro’s condition could win the fight for them, and the Temple of Heaven seemed so far away. Shiro was scared, but in that moment, all he wanted to think about was how good Keith felt against him.

“I should’ve kept it. I could’ve done a lot of things differently.” Shiro couldn’t help but look towards his partner, concern in his eyes, but Keith’s expression opened in a heart breaking smile. “Not this. I’d do this again every time.”

“I’d like to avoid the metal arm.”

Keith snorted. Neither of them really wanted to move, but Shiro refused to be bedridden. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, taking stock of the tent. Woven together with dyed animal hair, it kept the angry desert chill at bay. Trinkets of gold and copper lined the wall alongside large clay pots, each with a Sun emblem he’d never seen before. There was something in its center, like a flower. Keith helped drape a long dress across his shoulders. The sleeves ended just above his palm. It felt lighter than air.

They stepped outside, and Shiro was stunned.

Above them rose more stars than he’d ever seen, stretching across the sky like twinkling fireflies. An entire horizon of them, so wide they seemed to beat away the desert sands, and Shiro ached with a nostalgia he didn’t know.

“It’s beautiful.” There was a reverence in Shiro’s tone, like the confession had cost him but at a price he would willingly pay. Beside him, Keith was warm and safe, his hand curled in Shiro’s. He wasn’t looking at the stars.

“Yeah. It is.”

They turned into each other, the prince leaning down and Keith stretching to meet him. They kissed under a billion bright stars, each touch a promise of what they could have once this mad journey had ended and there was finally peace.

The Lady was just the slimmest crescent of light now, she’d almost turned her face completely from them, but that was just her ever changing moods. The moon would look down on them again, she always did, shining the light she’d taken to protect her children from the darkness. Her patterns could always be counted on and for some reason, it made Shiro feel better. As dark as things got now, the light would always return.

Lance was snoring on the little sandy shoal by the spring, feet still dangling in the cool water. The dragon looked much happier now that they were out of the heat, but Shiro didn’t know how he could stand the chill out there under the stars. Maybe Immortals didn’t feel the cold the same way the rest of them did.

Together they made their way to the center of camp, passing row after row of brightly colored tents. The tents were larger and more ornate towards the center, not as a sign of wealth but a sign of permanence. The nomads may have traveled on the winds, but the oasis would always be theirs. Small chimes sewn into the embroidered edges of the tents caught in the early evening breeze, sending up a twinkling tune to mirror the stars.

Young children ran and tumbled in the soft grass around the oasis, staring brazenly at the travelers. Women watched them behind multicolored veils hung with bright beads and embroidered silks, everything hidden but their dark, curious eyes. Shiro nodded politely to them as a group of young women giggled, leaning in close to whisper about their handsome guests. The prince could barely understand them, but he could feel the pleased and embarrassed flush keeping up the back of his neck.

A large open flame waited for them, surrounded by carpets and long rows of food. Stuffed and roasted meats, pickled vegetables, freshly baked flat breads, and smooth yogurt. Their companions were already waiting for them, too focused on their meal to offer. 

Unlike under Queen Alunsina on the Islands, dinner wasn’t an event, yet nomads across the community wandered in and out of the dining area. At first, Shiro could see no hierarchy of power. The nomads used the same titles for everyone. Every woman was a daughter or an aunt, and every man, a son or uncle. Every elder was a wise one. It was in their unspoken gestures that the nomads defined their leaders, the reverence in how they listened, and the courtesies they gave.

Then Keith’s stomach gurgled loudly, and Shiro smacked it with a satisfying _thwap_ that left the soldier indignant and flustered. 

Shiro laughed, but he was disheartened at how quickly his energy slipped away. He sat down with a grateful sigh as an older woman put a bowl of something warm in his hands. She was draped in multicolored robes, with cloth wrapped around her hair and pinned with small amber and gold clasps.

With murmured thanks, he ate the simple stew and let himself relax. Keith kept himself tucked beside him and Shiro didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t leaning against his best friend.

“Thank you for your hospitality.” He said and the woman touched her forehead.

“It is not every day that we find a prince in the sands.” Her voice was lilting and her accent strange, but she spoke the Sun Kingdom’s tongue fluently. “My name is Sakquara, one of the elders of our tribe. It is lucky that our herders found you when they did. Your wounds are serious, your highness.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for us, Sakquara, but I’ll be okay. We just need to get through this desert to the Temple of Heaven. Would you be able to show us the way?”

“Your friends have been speaking with the others all day about their course, but I’m afraid that time is not on your side.” She said sadly. “If we cannot stop the corruption, then you may not make it across the sands.”

“We have to try, we’re running out of time.”

She bowed politely, and Keith straightened position to return the gesture, even though he never let go of Shiro’s side. “Thank you, Sakquara. After dinner, can we have more of your healer’s poultices? They helped break the fever earlier.”

The woman left them with a promise to stop by their tent later, and excused herself for dinner. Shiro leaned over and kissed Keith’s shoulder, trying to snap the soldier out of his worry.

“Stop making that face. This is a good thing! The Goddesses are looking out for us to send us help like this.” Shiro said, trying to coax a smile from his friend. “And I’m starving, that’s a good sign.”

“I guess.” Keith couldn’t keep from fussing, afraid that Shiro’s illness could claim him at any moment. The prince just wrapped his arm around Keith, tipping the soldier’s chin so he could kiss him. Keith melted immediately, relaxing despite himself.

“I’m sorry I hurt you. I was lost for a minute, I don’t know what happened. The power was…I don’t ever want to hurt you, Keith.”

“It was an accident, don’t worry about it.” Keith snuggled up beside Shiro, watching the fire crackle and the men and women of the tribe busy themselves preparing dinner. This place was so foreign from anything they’d ever known, a world away from the quiet, serene holy temples in the Moon Kingdom and the crowded, elaborate cities of the Sun Kingdom. But still, they both found some small familiar piece of home here among the nomads. Or maybe, home was anywhere they were together.

Shiro bumped Keith with his nose, unable to put into words how much he regretted the hurt he caused, but so relieved to have Keit’s forgiveness and understanding. “When this is over, would you like to come home with me? I mean, it doesn’t have to be permanent or anything if you don’t want and there’s a lot of details to work out, but-“ He fumbled for the words as badly as any awkward young man in love. “I just want to be with you.”

Leaving the Sun Kingdom? Life among his enemies? No, not enemies. Keith couldn’t think about them like that anymore, not after meeting Shiro. The two Kingdoms had been fighting for too long, they were two halves of the same whole. Maybe once Zarkon was defeated, the Sun Kingdom could return to its former glory and this time, make alliances that mattered. Maybe Keith could help make that happen in some small way. “I think I’d like that.”

“Really?” Shiro’s smile brightened. “You wouldn’t _desert_ me?”

Keith paused and pulled away, brows furrowed. “Did you just-”

“Of course not. I’d never do anything so _sand_ sational.”

“Okay, I regret everything.” Keith groaned as Shiro dove in to wrestle him, wiggling his fingers between Keith’s ribs to make him laugh.

“Shirooo!”

Shiro turned just in time to watch Hunk barrel towards him, but when he was pulled into the mortal god’s embrace, Hunk was gentle. Pidge followed at his heel, but somehow, Lance still beat her to the hug. Dripping and soggy from his nap, the dragon planted himself across Hunk’s back, and patted Shiro’s hand absently. Pidge suddenly looked less enthused.

Shiro wrapped his arms around them all, but it was Hunk who lifted the three of them in the air before setting them gently back down. They’d all been afraid for him, he realized with a start. They’d been traveling companions for a long time and Pidge was new to their little group, but over the times and through the dangers, they’d become friends too. A family. Lance and Hunk had saved their lives over and over, making them laugh on the darkest nights and sharing their own fears on their journey. Pidge had opened up to them, a group of kindred spirits who were willing to risk everything to save her family.

It was good to feel like he had a place that he belonged again. Lance draped his damp self across Hunk’s shoulders and Pidge crowded in close to Shiro’s side, displacing any chance Keith had to claim that spot for his own.

“I’m sorry I made you all worry. I’m feeling better, it’s okay now.”

None of them looked like they quite believed him when the dark veins still stood out starkly against his skin, but they didn’t mention their worries as they all relaxed around the fire and enjoyed the moment together.

“These people are amazing.” Pidge piped up, taking a break from shoveling roasted meat into her face and wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “We always learned that this place was a wasteland, but they’ve been here for centuries! You should see the tech they’ve developed to be able to survive out here, it’s so cool. They have this irrigation system that is older than even the ones we have at the Monastery and they travel without ever getting lost, isn’t that cool?” She babbled excitedly.

“And our map is old and wrong and should be thrown out,” Hunk added breezily. Pidge bristled angrily enough to tell Shiro that this was no the start of that discussion. “Their leaders say they can get us through the desert. They want to finalize the plan after dinner. It’ll take a few days and we’ll be riding hard, but we should make it to the border. There’s still a chance we can beat the Sun Army to the Temple.”

The group exchanged looks, knowing that estimate was more hopeful than they had any right to be.

“They’re pretty helpful for gilts, all things considered. Maybe they just hate the knotheads more than Lord Mooniness over there.” Lance brought up idly, ignoring the heated glares both Pidge and Keith sent his way. Shiro shrugged, and Keith backed off first, with the decency to look ashamed.

“So we just… leave in the morning?”

The prince’s question was met with silence that stretched towards uncomfortable. No one seemed ready to meet his gaze, rediscovering their plates with new focus. By the bonfire, a young girl had picked up a goblet drum while her friends pestered the boy beside her until he left to collect his oud. They sang for no one but themselves, oblivious or indifferent to the fact that they dined with legends. Shiro envied them.

“Can you travel?” Keith asked. He sounded like he didn’t want to be heard.

Keith did his best to keep his expression neutral, but he already knew the answer. The fate of the world depended on them. For years, Keith thought he’d been ready to sacrifice everything for his country. A death in the name of protecting his Empress was a life well spent. Keith just hadn’t thought he’d have anything more precious to lose. As Shiro met his eyes, his gaze hardened with resignation, Keith realized he was wrong.

“We don’t have a choice.”

Sweet, reedy music filled the air. The youngest of the nomads struck up a dance, chasing each other and kicking up dust as small cups of metal and glass were passed around for tea. Their guests cheered, stomping their feet to the music as one bold young boy gave Keith a shove towards the other dancers. He sputtered an indignant retort, but stopped himself and held his hand out to Shiro, gently pulling the prince to his feet. “Dance with me?”

“I’ll try to keep up.” Shiro was tired, but there was no pain in the world that could keep him from enjoying this last night.

Pidge laughed as one of the girls handed her a set of drums, teaching her the different tones each could make and adding to the thumping rhythm of the song. Lance looked wistfully over at his friend, mouth opened to ask the same question, but someone was already pulling Hunk to his feet. They twirled the Earth god around, draping scarves around his neck as they danced, and the sand beneath their feet danced with them.

Lance looked on jealously, tugging on the feathers of his hat before surging up to his feet. If they wanted a dance, they were going to get a dance! Lucky they had the best dancer in all the kingdoms in their midst. The dragon stole a scarf from around one of the women’s waists, waggling his eyebrows at her and sure she was swooning behind her veil. He wiggled and gyrated until the entire camp was in an uproar, the nomads calling out to him cheerfully.

He took advantage of the mood, looping the scarf around Hunk’s shoulders like a net and pulling his best friend close. When Hunk grabbed his hands and danced, he felt his heart soar. Lance could have kissed him then, with the stars in Hunk’s eyes, and the fire painting his tanned skin. He really wanted to.

It was a perfect night.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Pidge and Keith woke early to greet the sun with the rest of the tribe. Even here in the sandy wastes far from the Empire’s capital, the people of the Sun shared the same fundamental beliefs and worshiped as She rose above the horizon. The nomads bowed low, touching their heads to the ground before rising to begin her Way. Their style was different than the aggressive postures of the Garrison or the agile strikes of the Jade Monks. They twisted and leaped, ceremonial knives sweeping in tandem as they offered themselves to the Sun Goddess in a beautiful, deadly display. Everyone one practiced, from the very old to the very young, and Keith quietly marveled at how strong they all were. The nomads, through their own Way, still retained some of the Empress’s gifts.

Pidge struggled to keep up, never skilled in the physical prayers, but Keith found that his body lent itself to their style and at the end, one of the nomads present him with his own curved knife.

Now he had two swords. Keith was already determined to use both.

As the rest of the camp prepared for the day, it was clear that Shiro was worse. The infection had spread, curling its dark tendrils along his neck and across his jaw, digging into his mouth. He could barely keep any water down during breakfast, trying to mask his pain but too tired to succeed. Keith could have sworn that when Shiro looked at him, his eyes had flickered yellow.

The elders of the tribe gathered them together after the sun had fully climbed above the horizon, old women watching them from behind their colored veils and old men with long beards. They were a proud people, with good reason. After besting the harsh environment of the desert, there seemed little else they ought to fear. One stepped forward, giving each of the travelers a small nod. “Your friend’s condition is deteriorating. The infection must have been growing in him for a long time, there’s nothing more we can do. I’m afraid the prince won’t be able to make it across the desert.”

“No!” Keith was on his feet in a minute, outraged. It was so much easier to be angry than to admit that the world had opened up beneath him. “You can’t just give up on him, there has to be something we can do.”

Hunk twisted his hands worriedly. “Are you sure? We can’t just do nothing, he’s our friend.” Lance and Pidge chimed in, each adding their voices in argument as the old man held up his hands for quiet.

“There’s nothing we have that can counteract Galra magic, but there is one place that may help him.”

“Anything!” Keith reached out and grabbed the man by his robes. “We’ll go anywhere, just tell us what can save him.”

A sharp thwack hit the back of Keith’s hands, and the oddest sensation crawled through his veins as numbness set in. He turned to find Sakquara glaring at him. He was forced to release her companion. Humbly, he bowed his head, muttering an apology, and though she did not seem to accept it, she relented. 

The old man cleared his throat, to explain. “A few hours from here is the ruins of a great library set into the mountainside. It is said that before this land was burned by the Sun, her Lady of the Moon built a Great Library for the Sun Goddess to house all of the knowledge they’d learned since the world began. It was a gift, locked away from mortals who would use it for harm. It’s dangerous and sacred, no one is allowed inside.”

“Now is not the time for fairytales, Imran. You send them to their deaths for a chance at what’s been unseen for centuries.”

Imran adjusted his robes. The lines in his dark, wizened face were deep, but there was an undeniable spark in his eyes as he turned from Keith, to the rest of their companions, before finally settling over the unmoving prince. “They are a fairytale, Sakquara. How else did they find us?”

The soldier was set to bristle again, ready to dismiss their ramblings as unnecessary, but both turned to him expectantly. “We didn’t find you.” He answered reluctantly. He shoved his hand into his pocket, still prickling from her attack and slowly withdrew the compass that was never far from his heart. “It did.”

She plucked the compass from his hands before Keith could squawk a complaint and turned it over, shrewdly examining the craftsmanship. “Now where did you get this?”

“I was given it at the start of our journey.” Keith said, watching her nervously. “Can I have that back? It’s our only way to get to the Temple of Heaven.”

“You doubt me now?” Imran handed the compass back to Keith. “That was made by our people centuries ago, one of our treasures we thought lost. If it returned to us with a Scion, then they may just have a chance. This is fate.”

Pidge perked up immediately. “You  _made_  that? How?”

“With magic and skill.” Imran said patiently. “Though that particular secret was lost through the years. If you are set on your fool’s journey, we will not stop you, but be warned. The library is not a place for mortal men. The knowledge inside was meant for gods alone, and even they could not be trusted.”

Keith tucked the compass away and straightened his spine. “I don’t care if it’s dangerous. If it’s the only chance we have at saving Shiro, then we’re taking it. We need him or the Galra win.”  _And I need him. I can’t lose him._

“Very well. Just know that knowledge can be a great tool and a deadly weapon. Once it is known, it cannot be unknown. You may come to regret that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this. You mortals just cower in a corner somewhere.” Lance drawled, but his expression was stern. His gaze lingered longest on his best friend, before he dredged up a rakish smile. In the distance, the rustling of waves could be heard, and by the oasis, a young man screamed as water rose into the air. The dragon wouldn’t take everything. He was selfish in many ways, but he was never intentionally cruel. He would still take what he needed to sharpen his claws if it meant saving their friend, and he stared down the old woman who met his eyes and glared right back.

“Your kind helped bury its secrets, Taneen. Do not think this is a burden you can carry on your own.” Sakquara spoke harshly, but there was a solemn sort of pity in her tone that had Lance standing straighter.

Shiro let out a pitiful moan, and Keith was by his side in an instant. What he found made his stomach sink to his knees. “He’s freezing.”

“Get the Master Healer.” Imran ordered softly, but it was the tone of a man who was used to being heeded. Sure enough, one of the women at the entrance of their tent ran off. Keith stayed until she returned with help.

He stayed with him as the others readied for their journey. The travelers were given tall, spindly camels with surprising strength. Normally, Shiro would have been transported on a cart, but in their deadly race against time, it would have only slowed them down. They were dressed in long cloaks that shielded them from the sun, and given as much supplies as each camel could carry without surrendering speed. Pidge had found a compass of her own, unlike Keith’s but reliable and sturdy, and Hunk stared mournfully out across the endless desert. 

“The next time you seek us, young man. I hope we will be able to teach you more.” Imran was sad to see them go, but the nomads always stood by their word.

Keith bowed respectfully. His heart ached, wishing irrationally that they didn’t have to leave so soon, wishing that he could have gone on this journey without Heaven and Earth hanging in the balance. There was so much he didn’t know, so much he wanted to experience, and if Shiro had just stayed with him, Keith thought he would have been happy to travel forever.

“Thank you for everything. For saving us. We would have liked to stay longer.”

He was answered with a kind smile that Keith didn’t think he deserved. “You’ll find your way. For now, my daughter and son will lead you to the library. It will be a hard ride, but you will find no better guides.”

Keith noted that their guides looked nothing like Imran.

They set off into the heat of the day, the sure-footed camels plodding their way across the shifting dunes. Hunk clung to his reins and looked sick, the rocking motion of the animal too much like the pitching of a boat on the ocean. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, trying not to lose his breakfast. Lance’s camel seemed to be nothing but trouble, refusing to listen to commands as it raced into the desert well ahead of the others. The pirate yelled, holding on for dear life until their guides were able to corral the unruly beast and bring it back in line.

When they stopped to rest during the hottest hours of the day, they set up thin white canvas tents for shelter and flopped beneath them as the camels placidly rested nearby. Pidge and Lance were asleep in seconds, each trying to outdo each other with their snoring. Hunk and Keith helped Shiro lay back on the blankets spread out over the sand, coaxing him to drink and pressing damp cloth against his clammy skin.

The day passed, and then another as the rolling dunes gave way to hard packed sand and rock. Mountains rose up before them in red stone, worn by sand and sun since time began. Their guides knew the way, leading them down hidden canyons between the mountains and ancient trails.

Eventually, they began to see some small signs of civilizations. Faces of gods and goddesses looked down on them from ancient statues lining their path. They were so old that the figures were crumbling and indistinct, the gods they worshiped lost to time. A half-collapsed watchtower loomed over them on a cliff overlooking the ravine and carvings along the walls showed travelers with camels making the long pilgrimage across the desert. Here and there were words written in some forgotten tongue, the characters strange, but Hunk copied them all carefully into one of Pidge’s notebooks to puzzle over later.

Whoever had lived in this place was long gone.

The path narrowed until the travelers had to pass through single file, the walls so close they could reach out on each side to touch them. Finally, the passage ended, opening into a wide sanctuary completely hidden within the ravine. An ancient building cut into the stone towered above them, pillars reaching upwards through the mountain. The entrance was guarded by statues whose weapons had disappeared long ago, but their carved armor still bore faint traces of the rising sun emblem.

There was just one difference.

In the center of each emblem, with his graceful petals spreading towards the sun’s many rays was the lotus flower.

Up ahead, a camel let out a tired bellow. One by one, their procession stopped. Keith was one of the first to disembark, racing ahead to help Shiro down even as the rest of his friends tried to stretch their tired muscles. His help was readily accepted readily, but Shiro only let out a tired groan as he fell into Keith’s arms.

“We’re almost there.”

A hush fell over the travelers, like the very air was holding its breath. Together they made their way across the last stretch of the winding corridor, and gasped.

Standing before them, chiseled into the mountain itself, was a great doorway into endless darkness. Its pillars were a thousand times taller than any man, its great roof so high, they couldn’t see its apex. Time had worn away its edges, but the remnants of symbols could still be felt along the inner surface of the columns, fragments of images and words that felt too sacred to touch. The Goddess is Her form of the hawk looked down on them, Her wings outstretched like She could engulf the mountain, but standing by Her feet and protecting Her heart was an enigmatic owl with wise, hollow eyes.

In Keith’s arms, Shiro gasped and clung to his shoulder.

“Welcome to the Great Library.”


	19. Chapter 19

The stone steps to the library were worn smooth and the red rock warm to the touch. Their guides wouldn’t even enter, they bid them goodbye before the first tile and watched the two nomads ride back through the narrow stone passage. Though they never said anything out loud, it didn’t seem like they planned on seeing the travelers again. A world of shadow waited for them beyond the doorway. They all held their breath as they entered, waiting for something to happen, but they were only greeted by silence and the faint sound of wind high above the cliffs.

“Well, that was anticlimactic.” Lance said, sauntering forward into the gloom. “I thought there’d be like, magical guardians or ghosts or something.” They peered out into the shadows and the rows upon rows old moldering scrolls. The arid desert had made everything brittle, and when Hunk carefully lifted one scroll out of its cradle, it disintegrated in his hands.

“This is it?” He asked, slightly disappointed.

Pidge found a torch and held it up to light their way. The room spread into the mountain with shelves holding ancient books and faded maps. Most had crumbled into dust, leaving nothing but rotting bindings and scraps behind. Peeling paintings of the Sun Goddess lined the walls, the only things that seemed to have survived.

“This is what they’ve been guarding?” Keith helped Shiro lean against one of the shelves and picked through the pieces of what used to be a book. “How are we supposed to find any answers here? This was a waste of time!”

“There’s something here.” Shiro croaked, voice rough with pain, but still strong enough to silence every protest. “There’s some energy, I can feel it.”

They ventured forward with a lingering sense of reluctance. Keith refused to leave Shiro’s side. He and Hunk kept the prince propped between them, with his Galra arm draped across Keith’s shoulders. Neither said a word about how much of his weight they had to carry.

The library was enormous. It stretched around them with the same infinity as the desert. Outside of Pidge’s torch, they could see and hear nothing. It was as if they were stuck in limbo, and every time Keith checked his compass, it pointed towards the exit. Yet Shiro guided them forward with an old certainty, chanting an unfamiliar prayer in the Moon Kingdom’s tongue with every turn until they stopped at a large arch, depicting tall, proud warriors, each with a traditional Sun kingdom weapon in her hand.

The air grew cold.

“Hunk.” Lance yelped. “You’re glowing.”

It was faint, almost impossible to notice, but once Lance had pointed it out, they could all see how the mortal god seemed to brighten the dim, as if he’d stolen a flicker from Pidge’s torch. 

“Is that a Kanloan thing?” Hunk asked softly. “The glowing?”

Lance hesitated, but he was still too eager to talk about the past. “Not exactly. It’s more of a god thing. They’re all like that. They were all… so much more than what you saw.”

It was an honest answer. Hunk couldn’t fault him on that, and bitterly he wondered if jealousy and resentment were just human traits. Then he immediately back-tracked. He knew his best friend long enough to know they were at least dragon traits, too. He just wished it didn’t feel so bad.

“We have to go through,” Shiro whispered, but the words cut off with a sharp wheeze. He doubled over, slumping heavily against Keith’s side. He didn’t know how long he stayed there, just drifting.

Then Keith was wiping his brow, and helping him drink from a water skin. The torch light seemed dimmer somehow, or maybe the shadows across Keith’s face were just longer. “You’re not going anywhere.” He murmured, running his thumb across Shiro’s lower lip.

Stubbornly, Shiro shook his head. “It’s not far. It’s just-”

“Does anyone else hear that?” Lance asked abruptly, his eyes too wide, his shoulders tensed. “Water.”

“I hear it too.” Hunk peered through the doorway, then back at his friends nervously as if to make sure he wasn’t just imaging the sound. “It sounds like running water? How do they have running water in the middle of the desert?”

“Might be an underground spring or river?” Pidge said thoughtfully. “There used to be people here and we’re a long way from any oasis. If they lived here, they’d have had to get water somewhere.”

“No, it doesn’t sound right.” Lance started, then shook his head. “Never mind, it sounds dumb.”

Keith helped Shiro sit down against the stone wall, the prince’s eyes squeezed shut and sweat standing out on his brow. He groaned softly, his entire body alternating between a wash of unbearable heat and a sweep of icy cold. “You can’t go any further, you need to rest.”

“Then you go.” He said, forcing a smile through the pain. “The four of you can find what we need, I’ll be safe here. Don’t worry about me.”

“Like hell I’m leaving you behind.” Keith knelt next to Shiro, brushing the hair back from his damp forehead, but his anger gentled as he tried to help the prince get more comfortable. “I’m staying with you. The others can handle this and they’ll come back for us as soon as they find something.”

Lance struck a pose, hands on his hips and teeth gleaming. “You can count on us! I  _live_ for adventure and I’m sort of well-known as a hero. There’s whole sea chanties dedicated to me. Have I ever told you about the time that I single handedly saved an entire city from a tsunami? I was magnificent, it was this-“

“Just hurry.” Keith deadpanned and Lance deflated as Hunk gave a quick nod.

“Don’t worry. You can tell me all about it on the way over.” Pidge snorted.

They sent the pair one last, unhappy glance, before they were swallowed up by darkness. It was impossible to say how long they walked, with nothing but their slowly shrinking torch for company. Lance never seemed to need the light, focused only on finding the source of running water. The air grew thinner and thinner as tension gave way to wariness. They walked deeper into the mountain, until even Pidge could hear the rumble of a flowing river.

“Does anyone else need to pee?” She asked, daring a sidelong glance at her unnaturally reserved companions. Hunk barked out a laugh. The sound echoed through the stone, and the darkness didn’t feel so hollow.

“Or like really, really thirsty? Because that, too.”

“Lance, if this is all for an ancient lavatory, I’ll be impressed, but I’ll also smack you.” Pidge was cut off with a sharp  _oof_  as an arm shot out, stopping her in mid-step. The torch trembled, casting dancing shadows out in all directions, but it wasn’t enough. Lance was standing right beside her, but he sounded a million miles away.

“Careful.”

Behind them, Hunk froze as Lance took one step closer, then another.

Then he roared out blue flame, so bright that the day flashed before their eyes, and the dragon’s roar echoed through the cavern. It spread across the floor, pouring light into the room as it ran through shallow canals of gentle flowing water. It spread up the walls, following ancient symbols that woke with power of their own. And with them woke the dragons.

Along the wall were carved statues of the legendary creatures, so realistic Lance ached with nostalgia. Each of them stood on a perfect sphere of marble, but Lance recognized the pearls they were meant to represent. Their brother’s fire lingered, burning above the canals and guiding them towards the middle of the room, where a pool of water stretched beyond his flames and into an abyss. Lance was struck dumb. “Those are scales. Those are real scales.”

“Lance…”

“No!” Fear crept into his voice. It had been centuries since he’d seen any of his siblings. His self-imposed exile to human form made it almost impossible to meet any of them. Now  _this_. A dragon had died here, an Immortal had _died_. Some brother or sister he’d never known, a lost piece of his family. With a sharp cry, he took off running, jumping from island to island to reach the closest statue, with Hunk and Pidge hot on his tail.

He stopped in front of one snarling, fanged snout, staring with wide eyes. As lifelike as they were, these had been carved with human hands and magic, it buzzed from the stone that flickered with real scales. They caught the light from the torch, breaking it into a million iridescent rainbows that scattered across the water that pooled over the floor and ran into the darkness.

Water ran from the dragon’s mouth like a spout, joining the hundreds of others that formed rivers along the floor, and little islands of dry rock as they pooled into the darkness. 

“Uh…Lance? What’s going on?” Hunk asked. He was worried for him, even after everything Lance had put him through, and the dragon wished he didn’t have more bad news to give him.

Lance stared out at the water and swallowed hard, confused and grieving for someone he’d never known. He raised his hand, calling for the water to obey him. His power crackled at his fingertips, but nothing happened. With a frown, he plucked a single feather from his hat and gently set it on the little rivulets. Instead of being carried with the current to join the larger river, the feather was sucked down into the water and disappeared.

“It’s a trap, no one touch anything.”

“What?! How do you know?” Pidge demanded, her tone harsh, but a sad smile crossed the pirate’s face. This time, he touched the statue’s snout with revernce. The entire figure flared with light. 

“We made this.” He marveled, awe coloring his tone. “One of us helped make this. The scales still have their power. You can’t steal a dragon’s power no more than you can steal their wisdom. An Immortal died to protect this place.”

Pidge’s face scrunched with confusion. “How do you kill an Immortal?”

“I don’t know.”

The dragons were beautiful, designed with care and dedication. Now that he allowed himself to touch, Lance could see they were all slightly different, just enough for a skilled eye to catch, just enough for another dragon to appreciate. He moved from statue to statue, careful not to step even a toe in the deadly water every time. This one had its scales trimmed smaller. This one had sharper nostrils. This one had a slightly smaller left ear. This one had a cut through its lip that spread towards its cheek, a unique scar that he’d only ever seen on his older sister. He knew some of them, others were ancient siblings too old to know their younger brother.

He missed home so much.

He wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffling far less subtly than he hoped, but his chest felt too tight, and his stomach had worked its way into knots. He had to clear his throat before he spoke. “I don’t get this. What’s going on here?”

A warm hand settled over his shoulder. Lance startled, but Hunk didn’t pull away.

Lance gave another sniff, leaning into Hunk even when he knew he should be more careful. They had slowly drifted closer, but there was too many years between them to settle back into the way they used to be. He could almost see Kanloan’s light through Hunk’s skin, the two of them merging into one. It was bewildering and painful, but he was so tired of pretending that everything was okay. “I thought you were mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just…” Hunk sighed and pulled his friend into his arms. “It’s hard, okay? All of this is hard. I don’t know who I am, let alone how I feel anymore. It’s this mix of me and him, and I don’t know which one’s real.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” He didn’t try to absolve Lance, there was nothing either of them could have done. The decision had been made years ago by someone who’d been more powerful then both of them. “I’m scared.” Hunk finally admitted. “What if we’re only friends because you miss someone I used to be? What if I only like you because he liked you? I don’t know how to make that better and I’m scared I’m not going to be me anymore.”

“Hunk…”

The Earth god’s voice softened, barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m even real.”

“You’re real, Hunk.” Lance said fiercely, cupping Hunk’s face with his hands. “You are  _you_ , and that’s why I want to be with you. You know what Kanloan had that you didn’t? Magic. Memories. That’s it. You laugh at the same dumb jokes, you are just as smart and loving. You both do the right thing to help people, even when it’s hard. You both get scared sometimes and you want to protect people. You’re real, Hunk. Both of you are real.”

“You’re not just saying that?” Hunk asked quietly and Lance pulled away, hopping back over the dry patches of rock to the door.

“I mean it, of course I do, bro! I never wanted you to be anything different then what you already were, I just wanted you to remember me.” Lance said, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Especially me. You look at me sometimes and you don’t know who I am and I-I, I just miss you when it’s not you and me. You’re the only one I have left.”

With a grand sweep, he pulled of his hat and reached inside. “I kept things from back then, see?” He pulled out a little porcelain cup. “This used to be yours.” He said with a sad smile and pulled a pestle made from bright orange coral. “And this belonged to the one who took your power. I’ve been trying to find an answer, but all the texts I can find say I need a star, which is impossible with the Gates of Heaven closed. I’ve been looking for centuries, but I never gave up. I’d never give up on you, I’m going to fix you.”

“Is that why you wanted to go on this trip?” Hunk asked, emotions roiling in his chest. “To find a star for your magic spell and  _fix_ me?”

“I- Hunk, wait it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” Hunk waited with his heart in his hand, wishing, just wishing that Lance would have an explanation to this that would make it all better. He wanted to trust his best friend again. The dragon said nothing, quietly refusing to meet Hunk’s eye. Hunk still hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. “I don’t need to be fixed, Lance.”

It was a solemn admission that Hunk hated having to make. Sure-footed and stern, he made his way back towards the entrance to stand by Pidge’s side. She looked nervous, like she thought she’d have to stop him, and Hunk just shook his head. The relief on her face was almost painful see.

“If it’s any consolation,” she started hesitantly. “We’re going in the right direction.”

“Yeah?”

Pidge nodded earnestly. “You don’t set up traps like this just for the fun of it.”

In another time, Hunk thought she would have liked to talk about how fun setting it up would be. Now though, they had more important matters to deal with. “Then we gotta figure out how to get across. For Shiro. And the rest of the world. No pressure.”

Pidge laughed, but it sounded strained. “Let’s get to work.”

She sent Rover out first, making him fly over flowing water, but he returned to report that the entire hall was nothing but water. Next Hunk tried to fashion a barge, carved from the library’s walls. He melded sand and lava, making a careful ship of the lightest glass with Pidge by his side to help, but anything they put in the water sank straight to the bottom. He tried to build a bridge over it, only to watch the water rise up and drag it down, making all of them race towards the exit, terrified for their lives, but the enchanted trap only returned to its original position. It was infuriating.

Then Lance stepped forward.

“It’s a trap set by a dragon.” He said, trying to keep his thoughts to their puzzle. It was hard enough when he wanted to slink back to some hole or run halfway across the world. It was easier to pretend he wasn’t in pain when he didn’t have to see Hunk’s heartbroken face. He’d traveled on every sea, lost himself in human cities, and had given up the feel of his own scales. He’d locked himself in this shape, even though all it did was hurt.

But when that wasn’t enough to make up for his own mistakes. It was easier when he could just leave, but they’d come too far to turn back now. This was more than just his screw-ups, Shiro was sick and dying. If they didn’t find a cure, then there’d be no hope and their friend wouldn’t be the only one to suffer. For the first time in a very long time, Lance had to think about someone other than himself and his own selfish wants.

That had always been the trick, hadn’t it? The real wisdom had always been about others.

Lance reached into his hat and pulled out a pearl the size of his palm, bright white with whirls of cream. It glowed with a stolen light, the spark of a god hidden in its core. “If a dragon set this trap, then a dragon has to be the one to solve it.” He held up the pearl, casting its glow over the wall of dragons. He walked among them slowly, studying each one until one flared under the light, scales lighting like the sun.

“Wisdom finds the way.” He touched the pearl to the dragon’s mouth and the stone twisted like it was alive. A low rumbling shook the cavern, stone scraping against stone as the water pouring from the other dragon’s mouth gurgled to a trickle and then stopped. Light from the glowing dragon burst over the river, slicing a dry earthen path to the other side.

“Whoa.” Pidge breathed. “That. Was. So.  _COOL!”_

Lance pumped the air, quietly hissing his pride, and it was so easy to turn to Hunk, to look for him in times of victory. His best friend wasn’t paying attention. He was focused on inspecting the bridge, and Lance swallowed down his disappointment. “Sure as hell it is. Now hurry up before it decides to explode or something!”

They raced across the bridge, only breathing relief once they were on the other side. A passage had opened in the far wall, leading to a long set of stairs. They climbed up and were greeted by light.

After so long in the darkness, it hurt their eyes, but slowly, the room came into focus. It was hard to believe they were still inside. They stood at the very top of a garden of ethereal elegance, covered with bright flowers and lush trees. Stone paths cut across the grass, giving way to lacquered bridges carved with the emblem of the Empress and Her lotus flower. Lanterns danced with supernatural light, casting their glow skywards to mimic the sun as they reflected the painted glass across the ceiling.

It was beautiful.

“It’s a trap.”

“Yup.”

“Worst library ever.”

“Anybody want a snack?” There was a tired murmur of agreement and they sat down at the edge of the cavern, pulling out a bundle of dried fruits and meats from the nomads. Time was ticking down and Shiro was waiting on them to hurry back with a cure, but no one could tackle a giant deadly riddle like this without a little brain food.

“So, this isn’t a dragon trap. Any idea how to handle it?” Lance said his mouth full, doing his best to slip back into that carefree goofball persona before anyone noticed how he felt like he was cracking into pieces.

Without missing a beat, Pidge picked up a rock and threw it towards the gardens. Vine snapped out from the underbrush, wrapping around the rock and crushing it in their coils. They slithered back into the bushes, leaving the garden serene and peaceful.

“Hm.” They hummed thoughtfully and chewed. Hunk thought that a few months ago, the sight of a man crushing magical garden would have sent him screaming in the other direction. Weird that it seemed almost normal now.

“It is pretty though.” Pidge tried to fill the awkward silence between the two friends as they both brooded and pretended (badly) that they weren’t. “You know, if you ignore the whole trying to murder us thing. I wonder who built all of this stuff? Kind of hard to have a library if you keep killing everybody who tries to get inside.”

“I think that’s sort of the point.” Lance said sourly. 

“Are mortals so dangerous, the gods had to go to such extremes to keep us out?” Hunk asked, echoing Imran’s warning, but his question made Lance duck for cover.

“The gods were never really good with change, at least the Celestials weren’t supposed to be.” Pidge snorted, rewrapping the last of her dates before pulling out her notebook. “There has to be a way through this. Some kind of pattern. It’s not impassable, like the last one.”

“Blow it all up.” Lance offered. “Set the entire thing on fire, hope for the best?”

“Or maybe we have to walk in a certain order, but how do we test it without dying?” Pidge continued to spew ideas as Lance got to his feet. He popped open a water skin and poured a ball of water into mid-air, rolling his hands around it like he was trying to get it into position, then wound up and pitched it as hard as he could. It landed with a crash, destroying the stone path and leaving a small crater where it hit. Hunk gasped, on his feet before he could realize he was moving. And he waited.

Then the ground closed up, and the path reformed. The plants grew over one another, mending the damage that had been done until there was no sign of any damage. With a frustrated sigh, Lance recalled his weapon.

Pidge made a face and grabbed the water skin to her chest. “I’m not drinking that.”

“Well no one asked you, shrimpy.”

The water skin smacked Lance square in the face and sent him stumbling back a few steps. He grabbed it and glared at Pidge who stuck her tongue out at him. “Okay, if we can go through it and we can destroy it, then what are we going to do so the giant magical plant monster thingies don’t eat us, Mr. Dragon Man?”

They sat at the edge of the serene garden, watching the perfectly trimmed flowerbeds and neat paths between them. Something about it pulled at Hunk, some kind of false and artificial feeling. It was _too_ perfect, beautiful but unnatural. Real nature was messy and alive, full of laughter and pain. He snuck a quick glance over at Lance. Did Immortals understand that? Did gods? Would he lose that if Kanloan took control?

Hunk knew that Lance was trying to help, but no one had ever asked what _he_ had wanted. Not that he knew, everything was such a mess and he couldn’t pick out the threads of his own hearts from the knots of the past. He could see beneath Lance’s smile and the haughty stance, he knew his best friend better than anyone. Lance was afraid and sad, and if it had been any other time, Hunk would have gone to him, hugging him tightly until they both could face the world again. He couldn’t this time, not yet. Not until he understood what he wanted and what he would have to give up to get it.

“Maybe…” Hunk said more to himself than to the others. “Maybe we’re not supposed to destroy it. What if we change it instead?”

Lance paused. “What do you mean, change? Like trim the hedges until they look like camels or something? It’s bad enough they want to eat me, I don’t know if I’ve got it in me to deal with a homicidal topiary.”

Hunk made a face. “No, not like that. Someone made this garden, what if we just made it into something else?”

“You really think you can do that?” Pidge blinked at the warrior. “I saw you with that dust storm, but this is something different.”

“I don’t know, but I can try?” He said nervously and Lance wanted to go reassure him, but hung back, unsure if he was welcome to try. Kanloan lived inside of him, some unknown being with the power of a god in his fragile mortal chest. Thousands of years of memories and emotions that beat inside of his skull with a fury, threatening to overwhelm him. It was terrifying to feel like he could slip away and be something else, even if Lance clearly wanted it to happen. But could he use Kanloan’s power to change this room without losing himself in the process?

Hunk had only ever used the power when it was driven by fear and trying to protect others. This time was different. It was a choice to embrace that part of himself _for himself_ , not because of anything Lance wanted him to be.

He stood at the very edge of the veranda that overlooked the garden, letting its magnitude wash over him. It was like seeing the Jade Monastery for the first time, and learning that there were things that could challenge his imagination in ways he never expected. His home on the Islands held its own magic, but it was only when he ventured outside of it that he could appreciate the magnitude of the possibilities it gave him. Beneath his feet, the sands began to dance, undulating like the ocean waves.

Hunk looked at a wonder in its own right, but he also saw a blank canvas. There was something about this room, preserved in its singular state for all eternity that bothered him. Something about the stone bridges or pristine walk ways that still looked brand new. Something about the perfectly manicured lawns, and artfully trimmed shrubs that lingered in the back of his mind. It was dishonest. It was a artifical. Like a bronze kettle with new patina, a masterpiece couldn’t be one if it never changed at all.

The ground rumbled at his will, knowing before he did that his mind was set, and Hunk reached out. In long, thick slabs, it folded in on itself, rolling away like carpet. The stones crumbled into dirt. One by one, the trees splintered and cracked, and the lanterns’ light grew red.

For the first time, he embraced that power inside of himself without fear, looking for whatever it was that gave Kanloan his strength. The magic responded to his touch eagerly, but without the destructive force he was used to. The room melted as molten lava rose between the cracks and swallowed the perfect, deadly, unchanging garden into chaos.

But destruction wasn’t his goal. Hunk closed his eyes and  _reshaped_  the garden. Rough volcanic rocks cooled in craggy formations, the earth ground into fine sand. Water pooled in the little grotto, a tiny pond where he thought a calm blue sea should been. It wasn’t just the earth that needed to be rebuilt, Hunk let the power in his body bloom through his fingertips and the garden responded by blooming itself. Tall tropical trees burst from the sand, green leaves unfurling as they draped heavily over the little pool. Deadly magical bushes grew back with enormous, bright flowers in reds, yellows, and magentas, their scent sweet in the air.

The trap had been made to ensnare anyone in its perfect beauty, but Hunk had replaced it with an image of home, calming and familiar and alive. It was rough around the edges and imperfectly beautiful, a memory of some place and some time that was better. He barely heard Lance gasp beside him as he let his arms drop down to his side with a tired sigh.

“What?” Lance whispered. “Why did you do this?”

Hunk looked out proudly over  _his_  garden and shook his head. “It just felt right.”

He walked through his new garden with confidence, even as Pidge kept her hand on her weapons, outlining how every decision played out. “Good foraging, so you never have to go far. That water is deeper there, for the harbor,” Hunk gestured to the far left of the room, as they walked across the shore, fine white sand catching between their toes. Countless little shells were chipped and ground into almost nothing, each with their own unique design. Gentle lapping waves stole them away in one moment, and returned new ones in next. “There’s a wall of dredged land farther out to sea, to break apart the tides. And there, high land, in case of storms.” Hunk decided. It was every little change he would give his family if he could. Little things, just to make their lives easier. 

“If anyone lived here, I want them to be safe. We’ve had enough death traps for a year, don’t you think?” He asked with a familiar compassion that made Lance’s brittle heart break.

Hunk suspected there was more Lance wanted to say, but he was grateful when the dragon held his tongue. Now he called up a bridge, linking them towards the end of his lagoon. 

“Come on. Dunno how many more of these we’re going to have to get through, but I think I see a pattern.”

Where the bridge ended, a doorway appeared, and through it waited a staircase to guide them to their next task. It looked like it reached all the way to the top of the mountain.  

They started climbing the worn staircase that twisted up through the mountain, pausing to wheeze for breath halfway through. Lance wanted to complain and drape himself over Hunk’s shoulders, demanding to be picked up and carried, but he plodded along behind his friend silently. The smooth red stone was lit with torches that burned with a strange blue flame that didn’t seem to consume the wood. Magic hung heavy in the air and the trio was wary of another trap that lurked in the shadows ready to cut them down.

The pressure in the air increased, the taste of old magic thick on their tongues. A carved archway marked the end of the passage and they carefully entered a large room, the red rock fading into polished black. The ceiling reached up high above them, a perfectly curved dome like the empty night sky. In the center of the room was a device made of giant polished brass and gold rings, set with a thousand bits of glass. Complicated cranks and gears fit together in the ancient machine and the travelers stopped to stare.

“Trap?” Lance asked warily.

“No, puzzle.” Pidge took a step forward and put a careful hand on one of the rings. “This machine, it’s incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it before. Who do you think built it?”

“Whoever it was, it was a long time ago. This thing is ancient, just like the rest of the Library. And they had to know magic, this whole room is practically humming with it.” Lance said thoughtfully, poking one piece of glass.

Pidge dipped her torch in a low trench filled with oil running along the wall and light circled the room. It was massive, seemingly carved beneath the very summit of the mountain. Ancient carvings decorated the walls, and the trio wandered closer to examine them.

“Is, is that  _Allura_?” Lance breathed, pointing at one of the figures crowned in stars. The carvings showed a procession, five figures picked out in such intricate detail that they seemed almost alive, like they would take a breath moments before being turned to stone. Allura led the way, the stars around her head shining with diamonds. Behind her, an ancient dragon with scales of black opal and mother of pearl twisted above the stone travelers in the sky. Below, a god of Earth danced, her long sleeves tailing her like ribbons and adorned with yellow and pink topaz. Behind them both were a man and woman, the Scions. The Moon was dressed in silver robes flowing behind him, a silver circlet around ebony hair. He carried the crescent moon like a harp, playing the tune for the Earth god’s dance. The woman burned in gold, armored with the rays of the sun bursting from her head, each tipped with red rubies. She brandished a sword as a challenge and fire followed in her footsteps.

“Who are these people?” Pidge asked in hushed awe as they followed the stone relief around the room. The figures started at a pair of enormous doors, each one kneeling to make a sacrifice at the closed gates. “That has to be the Temple of Heaven, right?”

As they slowly walked the length of the room, each scene depicted a battle. In one, the dragon coiled around a shadowy beast, in another, a young woman with scaled skin raised her hands to the sky. The Earth God danced in storms, followed by beasts and blooming flowers. In the later carvings, the Sun and Moon were different, new Scions taking the place of the old. The Sun Scion was veiled like the nomad tribes, wielding one of their sacred curved daggers while the Moon Scion flew on owl wings in the night sky.  But in every picture, Allura always led the way, the Celestial goddess unchanging, with her dark dragon by her shoulders. They figures battled monsters and threw lavish celebrations, bringing peace and prosperity across the land.

Blackness crept into the last few panels, eating away at the edges and swallowing the other warriors. In the very last, Allura was alone, a giant diamond for a star glittering in her hands to hold back the darkness.

Hunk sighed, tearing his eyes away from the lonely goddess. “I was hoping I was wrong, but I think we’re stuck. There’s no way to solve this one.”

“You’re a real optimist, aren’t you?” Lance commented, more scathing than he intended, as he tried to turn one of the intricate knobs on the machine. Even with a dragon’s strength, he couldn’t make it move and Pidge shooed him away from it impatiently.

“Think about it.” Hunk ground his teeth, more defensive than he normally would have been, but in no position to hide his dissatisfaction. He had to psych himself up before he continued. “The first trap was built for a dragon. The second was for an Earth god. The whole thing is right there on the wall telling us what we need. All the races involved in the war between the Sun and Moon, isn’t that what Allura told you? It’s a library built by the Sun and Moon goddesses. I don’t think the Temple of Heaven’s the only place that needs teamwork to open up.”

“Gates of Heaven.”

“Whatever.” Hunk sighed. “This is… Dude, I think they, the goddesses, or their old priests, or someone, I don’t know, but I think they closed this library up to make sure that the old war didn’t destroy it. Or maybe they just closed it until we could prove we weren’t total dicks, and can work together. Maybe whatever’s inside there is just as powerful as the Temple. If it really has all the knowledge in the world since time began, I believe it. We need a Celestial god.” He pointed at the figure of Allura. “We need her, she’s the only one left.”

Then a deafening creak echoed through the air. They tensed, and together, turned towards the great machine, where a not so patient monk was slowly turning its gears. A dragon couldn’t make it move, but when the young girl barely touched it, the machine whirled to life. All at once, the flames in the room went out, plunging them into darkness, and from above, a thousand stars burst to life. They couldn’t have been in the library for more than a handful of hours, and yet they were looking up at the night sky.

“Pft, we don’t need anything. This is easy!” Pidge said with a laugh as the other two stared at her in shock. “Look, can’t you see the patterns?” She ducked under the machine, her tongue pressed between her teeth as she worked. “This one here, that turns this. And that one rotates, yup. Okay, so I can, and then right here…”

Her voice trailed off as Lance and Hunk gave each other a worried look. “Oh no  _way_.” They both stared at Pidge who had half crawled into the machine, her feet kicking up in the air. Hunk dragged Lance closer. “You don’t think she could be-, it’s not really possible, is it? She’d know if she was!”

“You didn’t.” Lance said gently and Hunk’s mouth shut with a snap. The stars were eternal, created by the Celestial gods back when the earth was formed. Unlike the Earth gods who thrived in the chaos of life, the Celestials preferred perfection. Beautiful and unchanging like the stars themselves.

“But they all left, didn’t they?” Hunk whispered. “I thought there weren’t any Celestial gods left on Earth.”

“I thought so too, until I met Allura. There were supposed to be some left behind, but no one has seen them in thousands of years. If they’ve been living as mortals, no wonder no one could find them! How could this happen?”

“Will you two jerks stop whispering about me? I can totally hear you.” Pidge said dryly. “And as awesome as it would be if I was some all powerful Celestial goddess, I’m pretty sure I’m just a whole lot smarter than you.” She yanked on one lever and the whole machine opened, a blinding white light throwing the room into sharp relief. They all yelped, shielding their eyes from its brilliance.

There, in the heart of the machine, was a single fiery star.

Lance was the first one to recover, hands outstretched and eyes wide, hope crowded up into his throat so thick he thought he’d choke. After so many years, the final piece. The impossible right here in his very hands. He’d searched the world for centuries from one corner to the other, chasing every fallen star in the hopes he’d still find the smoldering remains and it would be enough to bring back Kanloan. The last missing spark needed to complete the ritual and break the sea god’s curse. This wasn’t some fragmented piece of a dying star, this was young and newly forged. A star that had been crafted thousands of years ago by a Celestial’s hand, but never hung in the night sky with the others.

“That’s it!” He whooped, grabbing Hunk by the shoulders and shaking him hard enough the warrior’s teeth rattled. “Hunk, I can save you now! We can finally be together again, you’ll remember everything. It’ll all go back to the way things were.” Tears streaked down his cheeks as he buried his face into Hunk’s chest, entire body shaking around the sobs. “We can go home again.”

“We can’t.” The words cut through Lance’s joy like a knife and he jerked away in shock.

“What do you mean? This is everything we’ve been looking for, it’s all right here. You can love me again just like you used to. We can do the ritual now, I have all the other parts, just let me get set up and-”

“Lance.” The way Hunk said his name broke another sob from his chest. Delirious joy turned bitter and desperate as he clung to his friend, begging silently for Hunk to stop and knowing his friend never would. He would always sacrifice himself to save another, even when Lance pleaded with him to be selfish, just this once. “We need the star to get into the Library or Shiro is going to die, remember?”

“He’s just a human!” Lance wailed. “He’s a mortal, his life is over in the blink of an eye, but you and me? We live forever, Hunk. We have  _forever_  and I can’t keep spending it without you. Do you know how many times I’ve watched you die?” He hiccupped, crumbling as Hunk gently cupped his face. “Do you know how many times I’ve lost you?”

“We promised him.”

“I promised _you_. Please.” The dragon begged, knees giving way as he sank down to the floor and wrapped his arms around Hunk’s legs like a child. “Please don’t make me lose you again, not when there’s finally a way. We’ve given up too much for everyone else, just this once choose me. Hunk, please!”

Hunk brushed his fingers through Lance’s hair before slowly letting him go. He was tender, but he wasn’t kind. “I wish you cared about what I wanted.”

He looked up at Pidge who had frozen, watching the two of them with wide frightened eyes. “I think the star is for you.”

“I told you, I’m not a goddess.” She protested feebly.

“You’re the only one who could make the puzzle machine move. It’s you, Pidge.”

The young girl reached her hands towards the white-hot flames of the star, drawn by her irresistible curiosity, and stopped, glancing back at Hunk’s wistful expression and Lance, still on the floor and silently crying. “Are you sure you want me to have it?”

“If we don’t try, Shiro dies. I’m not letting that happen. I didn’t come here looking for immortality.” Hunk said, more for Lance than for her. The dragon didn’t respond, he didn’t even look up from his misery as Pidge gently scooped the star into her hands.

Pidge’s skin glowed as she held the burning star to her chest, but somehow she wasn’t burned. Her eyes were swallowed in endless black, lines of fire running through her body like veins. In an instant, she seemed inhuman, a being sculpted from light and marble and mind. She was ethereal, a creature made from something older than flesh and mortality that shone through her human self like it was trapped in bone and blood. She laughed in sheer delight, no fear in embracing the power of Heaven that beat inside of her. For the first time in so long, she felt right. Like this was what she’d been made for, finally at home in a body that had seemed so wrong since the very beginning. This was another puzzle to solve, another mystery to explore. With a clear shout, she threw the star into the air.

It burst through the top of the mountain with a flash, streaking upwards to join the others in the night sky. A newly born star, the first since the Gates of Heaven were locked, and a newly reborn Celestial goddess.

Silence settled over them, the only sound Lance’s quiet, muffled sobbing.

The last of the star’s light glittered at their fingertips, a glimmer of Heaven they’d only ever imagined. It gave the room a new life and almost looked like Allura would step through the carvings of her stone portrait to bid them forward. As the shadows fled, so did a veil of magic, and the roomed seemed to widen. They were guided to a far corner. As one, the travelers approached, staring with open shock and awe, before Pidge reached out. A cold shiver raced up her spine.

“We might have a problem.”

 

* * *

 

“Hey.  _Hey_. You zoned off a second there.”

Shiro blinked sleepy eyes up at his friend, his smile sweetly apologetic as he rubbed his cheek against Keith’s lap. “Sorry, it’s just. Tired. I’m just tired.”

It was the wrong thing to say. He knew without looking that Keith was worrying loudly at him, and Shiro aggressively cuddled closer. “It’s not as bad,” he mumbled into his pants leg. “The heat flashes aren’t as strong.”

“Shiro…”

“You were telling me about the falcons.”

Keith wasn’t appeased, but he let himself be swept up in Shiro’s obvious attempt at distraction, combing his fingers through his hair until Shiro sighed with relief. “Imran talked about hunting with his. I think it’d be nice to see, when we come back.”

“In the Moon Kingdom, we use owls.” Shiro said dreamily, letting himself drift back into the peaceful days of his childhood where nothing hurt. “They hunt better at night. When you’re 12, they send you out into the woods at night to try and catch one to train. If you can, the priests say you have the Goddess’s favor.”

“Did you have an owl?” Keith asked, more to keep Shiro talking than anything else. Keeping him grounded in this conversation meant the shadows of others couldn’t haunt him.

“Yeah.” The word came out as a sigh. “She was always angry, used to bite me all the time. I loved her. When we go back, I’m going to show you everything.”

“Like what?”

“I grew up at a temple with my cousins, but the capital city is beautiful. It’s not as big as the Sun Kingdom, but it’s full of flowering trees and canals. My mother is going to love you.”

Keith couldn’t keep from blushing at that, already nervous at the thought of meeting the High Priestess of the Moon Kingdom, one of the most powerful women in the entire world. He had been some common soldier from her greatest enemy. Now he wasn’t even that much, he was a deserter and traitor. No one near good enough for her son. “You’re being nice.”

“I mean it.” Shiro wound his arms around Keith and pulled the soldier against him. “She loves people with conviction and honor. She would appreciate how brave and amazing you are.”

“I’m not!”

“You are.” The prince smiled, pressing kisses against Keith’s shoulder. “I want to see the world with you. And then someday, maybe, find a place to settle down with you. I don’t know how you feel about palaces, we could find somewhere smaller.”

Keith closed his eyes and smiled to himself, letting himself dream. After they stopped the Galra and saved the world, there was a future. They could have a real life together and Keith couldn’t wait to get there. The rest of their journey seemed like an inconvenience. “Anywhere will be more comfortable than the Garrison.”

“Yeah, no more tiny rooms. I think we need a place to spread out.” Shiro teased and Keith felt his heart swell. He laughed and pulled Shiro down, mindful of his pain, and kissed him soundly, driving away the surprise on the prince’s face and replacing it with something far sweeter.

“What was that for?” Shiro asked, dazed but pleased.

“You remembered.”  It was another piece of their life together fitting back in place, another reminder that not all of Shiro’s memories belonged in nightmares.

“If I remember more, do I get another one of those?”

Keith could never say no. It wasn’t a bad way to pass the hours and it kept their mind from the worry or the corruption that slowly spread painfully through Shiro’s body. 

“You think they’ll be back soon?” Keith asked as the torch light dimmed and the hours stretched out forever. 

“They’ll be back. I’m okay, stop worrying about me.” He said, lying to them both but happy to do it. “Just stay with me, Keith. Tell me about our life.”

Eventually, they slept, holding each other tightly and safe in each other’s arms. As long as they were together, they were at peace. At least until their panting, sweaty friends burst back into the room. Shiro and Keith yelled in surprise, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge yelled louder.

“You guys, you have to see this!”


	20. Chapter 20

The team raced through the library without even a sliver of the White Lady’s light to guide their way, too excited for fear. They didn’t need torches, they carried their own light. No one could miss the change in Pidge, radiant with the glow of her newly discovered powers. There was so much she wanted to do, so much she wanted to try, and it felt like she was given a second shot at everything she’d been told was impossible while living at the monastery. They took turns helping Shiro through the maze, but Pidge could  _carry_ him now.

The journey seemed to take an eternity. Every step was an agony for the prince, but he set his jaw and kept moving without a word of complaint. A cure was almost in their reach, he wasn’t going to be the one who slowed them down. He only stumbled once, crashing down to his knees on the stone floor and lost in the fevered hallucinations as his nightmares came to life. He whispered an apology, though they didn’t know if Shiro was talking to them or to his own ghosts. It didn’t matter. They were there to help him back up.

They passed the hall of dragon statues, and Hunk’s island, the shore already taking on a new shape with the ever-shifting tide. Explanations came as they went, but there was one mystery they hadn’t solved.

In the room of the Celestial puzzle, the walls still glittering with the last lingering light of the risen star, was a mural like none of them had ever seen. It was carved of metal and precious stone around a gate that stretched up to the ceiling. Two women stood side by side, as opposite as Day and Night, but their hands were clasped so tight, every line of carved stone looked like it would shatter. Devotion and desperation came alive on their faces, and between them, a white lotus.

The Golden Empress and the White Lady.

Together they guarded an intricately carved lock, decorated with shooting stars and swirling skies that circled the ancient emblems of the Kingdoms of the Sun and Moon. Where a lock should have been were two hand prints carved into the door, one on each side.

Pidge, Hunk and Lance had all tried to make it budge, but none of them were royalty.

Shiro slumped against the door, putting his full weight against it, but it refused to move. He paused to catch his breath, bone weary and feverish. The voices whispered to him, louder now so that he could almost make out the words. They sounded like Sendak’s taunts and a woman’s laughter, cruel and mocking and impossible to escape, always coming closer like they were right on his heels. He shivered, trying to keep himself from heaving his guts to the floor.

“Shiro?” Keith gently touched his arm and brought him back. “Can you open it?” He didn’t want to sound as urgent as he felt, the cure to saving Shiro locked tight behind the doors.

“With blood, I think.” Shiro gasped, running his hand over the stone. Power thrummed beneath his fingertips, an old spell that bound the doors tighter than anything he’d ever seen. The lock would only open to the right hands. “Moon and Sun, just like the door.”

“Uh, quick question.” Hunk held up his finger. “We’ve got one Scion, but what are we going to do without the other.”

Lance shifted uncomfortably, hat pulled low so no one could see his worry. “I didn’t come all this way for it to be a waste. Come on, Prince guy. Dazzle us with some Scion magic.”

Shiro ran his hands down the door, trying to get a better sense of the spell. It was ancient and stronger than any other lock protective ward he’d ever felt. Whoever had cast it had been someone of immense power. Or maybe a whole group would have been needed to make this work.

They would need a miracle to get it open, but no one said so out loud. They all looked to Shiro for answers, but there was only one person he wanted to turn to.

“Keith.” He said slowly. “You’re the most dedicated person I know. You believe in your goddess, you’ve never lost faith in her. I’ve seen you in the mornings doing your prayers.”

“Me?!” Keith’s voice went up an octave. “No, no way. I’m nobody! I’m a common soldier, I’m not a priest and I’m certainly not anyone with royal blood. I don’t even have any magic, the Galra killed anyone who had even a hint of it before I was born. There’s no way this is going to work.”

“What other choice to we have?” Shiro took Keith’s hand in his own, giving it a squeeze. “We don’t have another option. Maybe there’s some small chance that after all your devotion, your goddess will cut us a break.”  

Keith had no answer for that, but want was written on his face in broad strokes, cutting across the doubt that always lingered just beneath the surface. He knew his shortcomings better than anyone. No other critic could be so cutting. He knew how far he was from perfecting the Goddess’s Way, from being able to protect the people he loved, from saving those the home that meant so much to him, but for one moment, he let himself hope. The Sun Kingdom had no scion and no great heroes left. Keith didn’t join this quest for their glory, but he wanted to believe that he could make a real difference.

“I trust you, Keith.” Shiro murmured, and Keith never wanted to leave him down.

“This is a terrible idea,” he said, but he took Shiro’s hand and together they fit their hands into the door. Before their eyes, solid rock shifted like the desert sands, settling around their skin. Something sharp sliced between their fingers, and crimson spilled across stone, and Keith gasped.

They took an unsteady step back, then another, watching as the panel darkened with power, and deep within the gates, a rumbling echoed. They started to move, solid stone shifting into the wall. 

“That actually worked.” Keith looked down at their lance hands, a single drop of blood gathering on his finger before plopping down to the floor. The lock had responded to him! Even if he was a nobody, the Sun Goddess had let him stand next to Shiro as an equal in just this one moment. If it worked here, maybe it could work for the Gates of Heaven too. They really had a chance!

Hope and elation bloomed in his chest, a fierce triumph. Nothing was going to stand in their way now.

Then there was light. 

The group carefully stepped into the enormous room as if they couldn’t entirely trust they’d actually made it to the end of their journey. The palaces of Heaven decorated the ceiling, their colors as vibrant as if they’d only just been completed. Each book and scroll was perfectly preserved, all of the written knowledge since creation kept safe. In the very center of the room, standing in the symbol of the Sun with golden rays bursting from around Her feet, was a statue of the Sun Goddess. She was dressed in armor, a sword at Her hip and face fierce beneath Her helm, but She held a lotus flower in Her hand with a tiny flame dancing at its center.

Pidge couldn’t stop herself from snagging a book from one of the shelves, frowning as she pulled it open. The characters were complex and beautiful, but nothing like she’d ever seen before. She couldn’t translate a word and even looking at them gave her a headache, as if the ancient words were looking for a way to escape the page. She closed it with a snap and set it back on the shelf. “Let me see if I can do this. Goddess powers, activate!” She pumped her fist in the air as the others stared silently at her. Rover chirruped encouragingly.

Nothing happened.

Pidge shook the closest book to make sure.

“I think it’s more like this.” Hunk stood next to her and widened his stance, punching his fist towards the ceiling. “Earth god powers, I summon you!”

Lance couldn’t stand not to give it a try, eager to pretend he wasn’t grieving. If Hunk could act like nothing was wrong, then he could as well. No one ever needed to know he’d broken down. He let sapphire scales dust his skin and put his hands on his hips. “I think you mean, it’s dragon time!”

“You’re all idiots.” Keith put his hand over his face and sighed heavily as Shiro just shook his head.

“None of that’s working, we need to be serious.” The prince said with a straight face. “There has to be some way we can track the right book. And besides, it’s more like  _moon magic, go!”_

“I hate every single one of you.”

Shiro leaned heavily against Keith’s slide, slumping against him with glorious pomp and wiggled his fingers in front of his face. “Swish swish pew pew activate?”

Keith shoved a hand in his face and tried to scowl harder when Shiro just laughed at him, burrowing insistently into the hollow of Keith’s throat. Keith wasn’t fooling anyone. He still did his best to look as annoyed as possible as he whipped out his compass. The rest of the team crowded around to watch as the needle spun lazily before pointing straight at Shiro.

Pidge snorted. “Predictable.”

“Um. Guys?” 

Hunk squeaked, voice gone high and shrill as he pointed above them, to the Golden Empress. In her hand, her flame flared green.

“Oh Goddess, Keith broke it.”

There was a crackle of power, and dancing lights spilled into the room, like stars come down from the night sky. They bobbed and spun just out of reach, but one landed on Pidge’s book. As she watched, the characters on the cover blended together, into words she could understand.

“By the Goddess!” “Quick, follow the lights!” Hunk, Pidge, and Lance went racing off into the stacks, chasing after their guides and wondering where it would lead them. Hunk’s paused over an ancient tome of recipes from civilizations long gone. The pictures were so lifelike that his stomach rumbled and his mouth watered. Pidge’s led her deep into the Library where complicated schematics for mysterious machines covered every inch of heavy wooden tables. She pounced on them with quiet exclamations to herself, wondering how many she could shove into her pack at once.

Lance’s light danced through the spiraling aisles and stopped, hovering over the leather and brass cover of a book that was bigger than he was tall. The elaborate bindings were decorated with pictures of the heavens and he reached out shaky hands to grab the edge, leaning back with all of his strength to pull the enormous book open. Words rearranged themselves into the dragon script and Lance sat down with a thump, hungrily reading about stars.

Keith helped Shiro settle into a chair that felt like it was made entirely of feathers, brushing the white strands of sweat-streaked hair from his face. “You rest right here. I’m going to find the cure.”

The prince just smiled, leaning into his friend’s touch. The words sounded muffled and faraway, and all Shiro wanted was a few minutes of rest. He didn’t notice the cloak draped across his shoulders, but still tried to stir as a gentle kiss was pressed across his brow. For a while, even his nightmares settled.

The soldier turned back to the statue of his goddess. “So, um. You have any special guidance for me too? How do I heal him?” Light surrounded the soldier and Keith vanished from the Library.

 

* * *

 

Across the library, the mortal deities raced, barely restraining themselves from wrecking havoc. Pidge was bravely balancing a pile that climbed higher than her head while her bag burst with old documents. Hunk had constructed a cart of stone that followed him around like a pet.

“This is amazing.  _This is amazing!_ ” Hunk said for the umpteenth time, but Pidge only grunted, her tongue pinched between her teeth as she flipped through the pages of yet another book, before a look of utter dismay crossed her features when she realized she had nowhere else to put it.

She threw her hands up in frustration, and a dozen books clattered around her. Then sighing like she wanted to wake the dead, she slowly started to pick everything up. “This isn’t good. This is too good, and that’s not good! Every time I find something that can help Shiro, I kind of… find something else, but it’s always a really good thing! Just look at this!”

There was no reply. Hunk had fallen silent, staring down at the scroll in his hand, lined with long, sloping text that flowed far more gracefully than the boxy characters of the Sun Kingdom’s language. Yet the same moment Pidge made the comparison, the words seemed to shift, becoming recognizable and readable.

“A Geography of the Islands?” She read softly. The Earth god shook his head, but rolled the parchment shut with shaky hands. Indecision played across his features, but he put the scroll back on its shelf… before slowly placing it on the top of his cart.

“My home, it-” The words caught in his throat, and he had to fight to force them out, forcibly nonchalant and far too interested in making Pidge her own cart. “They wrote about him.”

“Oh.” There had been a figure was sketched in the middle of the scroll, a smiling man with black tattoos etched into his body. He even looked like Hunk, they had the same shape, the same nose, the same grin even if Hunk wasn’t smiling now. It was bad enough to have the memories and the power whirling inside of him, but looking into his own face was too much. “Are you going to read it?”

Hunk shrugged, trying not to look at it. “Maybe. I don’t know, I’m not really sure how to handle any of this.” He paused, trying to understand his own feelings. “You don’t seem upset that you have powers. Aren’t you scared of it? I keep thinking that if Kanloan is the real me, then it means I’m not really anything at all.”

Pidge hopped up on the desk, letting her legs swing back and forth. “Actually, I get that. I’ve spent most of my life uncomfortable in my own skin and trying to figure out what was the real me. And then once I figured out who I was, then it was hard to get other people to accept that instead of what they wanted me to be. This whole goddess thing? I don’t know, it’s not as scary as the rest of it was. I know who I am, I got here and I’m happy with the person I want to be. I don’t know what being a Celestial means or if I have other memories too, but it feels like just another part of  _me_.”

She’d never opened up like this before and Hunk leaned on the table next to her, thinking it over. He couldn’t accept who he was without knowing who he was first, or at least, who he wanted to be. He’d been so caught up in thinking about Kanloan as something different, a whole different person separate from him instead of a part of who he was. On top of it, it was hard not to worry about what Lance wanted him to be and if his best friend cared about him or just a lost love.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” He admitted quietly and Pidge leaned against him, dwarfed by his size.

“It’s not easy and I still have days where it’s hard. But at the end, you have to be happy with who you are, Hunk. And  _you_  get to choose who that is.”

He sniffed and nodded. “How did you get to be so smart?”

“I’m a goddess, duh!” Pidge winked.

Hunk laughed, and Pidge was kind enough to ignore the way he surreptitiously swiped at his eyes. “I wish I had my best friend back,” Hunk confessed, trying to pass it off as unimportant as he gathered the last of his scrolls to continue their search.

Pidge snorted. “Well, he’s being a dick. You can have him back when he’s done.”

Hunk had to bite back a smile, stopping himself from defending Lance. It always came too easily. He could never stand someone putting the dragon down, even now. “Hopefully that’s soon. Where is he anyway?” 

But Pidge had a harder question.

“Where’s Keith?”

They looked around for the soldier. Lance was still desperately absorbed in his enormous book, Shiro was slumped over on a table near the statue of the Sun Goddess, but Keith was nowhere to be seen. Shiro gave a quiet groan, lost to his own nightmares as Pidge went over to check on him and pressed a hand against his clammy forehead. “Uh, Hunk? I think he’s getting worse. Keith, where are you?”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure he’s ready?” The voice hurt Shiro’s ears, slithering through his defenses like all the whispers that kept tormenting him.

“Yes.” A woman now, foreign and familiar that sent fear racing down his spine. The ground was cold under his bare knees and slick with blood, his own he realized distantly. It was like his own thoughts were distant, removed from what was happening to his body and forced to just watch the disconnected horror. The woman yanked back sharply on the collar around his neck and Shiro’s head lolled back, unresisting, to look up at her. His mistress.

Haggar smiled with cruel fondness down at Shiro’s blank stare, her lips the only thing he could see beneath the hood pulled low over her face. Crow feathers whispered against the floor as she moved around him, showing off her prize. “He’s responded well to the experiments, he was the perfect subject. We’ve managed to train out his disobedient streak. Now our Champion is eager to serve now, aren’t you?”

Shiro knew he’d agreed, he’d said something that earned him a gentle caress from the Druid’s thumb, but he couldn’t understand the words that twisted his tongue. Power crackled along her skin and he knew it wasn’t just the leash kept him spellbound, her magic had hooked itself deep into his body and left him broken.

“I have waited a thousand years for this.” Large hands cradled his face and he looked up into deep violet eyes, a face eaten by corruption and sickness. An ancient creature that clung to its physical form even though inhuman fire burned where its eyes should be. Shiro didn’t fight as Emperor Zarkon tipped his head up and forced his mouth open.

“Now, Scion, you are finally mine.”

Darkness, thick as blood and black as ink poured from Zakon’s mouth into Shiro’s, choking him. It slid down his throat and flooded his lungs until he drowned and still it wriggled and buried itself deeper inside of his body like a living thing.

Shiro opened his eyes. 

 

* * *

 

The Great Library was a magical place, but Keith hadn’t expected to be whisked away so easily. It happened so quickly, Keith hadn’t noticed the changes until it was too late.

The air started to shift around him, electrified with magic, like the calm before a storm. It fed off of his determination as much as his badly restrained fear. The Great Library was designed to give its users all they sought. Especially a Servant of the Empress.

Everything around him seemed to slow and fade into shadow, the rays of the sun mosaic at his feet lighting with a soft golden light.

“Welcome.” The voice was quiet but hit with the force of mountains, power searing through every syllable. Keith whirled, staring up at the statue of the Sun Goddess that smiled proudly down at him. She was still carved from alabaster and adorned in gold, but somehow  _alive_ , her armor flashing as she moved to great him. Keith fell to his knees with a choked sound, unable to speak.

“I have waited a long time for you, blood of my blood.”

Keith kowtowed, pressing his forehead to the ground at the statue’s feet. “Empress! I-I…I don’t understand.”

He couldn’t look at Her directly. She was too powerful, too magnificent, terrible in Her perfection, and blinding in Her strength, yet somehow he knew She was still diminished. This world could not withstand the force of Her unadulterated magic. She read the confusion and fear on his face with a smile as sharp as a knife’s edge, and any mortal would only see kindness, lest the alternative tear their minds apart. 

She knelt by his side, fierce and deadly, but protective for all those need. Cool stone hands touched his shoulder. “I am bound far from your world, but I have still watch over what’s mine. I have hidden you when all the others fell to Darkness. They sacrificed to keep you safe. My heir, my Scion.”

Keith could never deny her, but his head spun with doubts. He was shell-shocked with awe and incredulity. All his life, he’d been training to react to the impossible, to put the mission before any of his doubts, but it was impossible to be prepared for this! A thousand questions rushed through his mind, in a powerful wave that battered against his jumbled thoughts. Keith didn’t know how any of this was possible. He was an orphan, he didn’t have any family. If he was Hers, then why had he been left alone?

“You have come so far, but your journey is far from over.” Keith felt her command resonate through him, rattling in his bones and leaving him trembling. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a new power coursing through his veins. His chest constricted around it, as fire licked across nerves. It spread from within him, claiming inch after inch, and he was sure he’d be set ablaze. Keith was terrified, but the Empress bid him stay, and he would rather burn than disappoint Her. “You have carried your legacy for many miles now. It always shows you the way.”

“My legacy?” Trembling hands reached for the compass, holding it out to Her as if it were an offering. “I barely know how to use it.”

“It shows you the way to what you want most. It’s meant to guide the Scion and to protect him.” She said as She wrapped Her hands around his. “It is time to embrace what you are.”

“I don’t know how.” Keith felt so small. He’d met gods and dragons and priests, but nothing could compare to the attention of the Sun that shone in this place for him alone. He struggled to grasp her words, that he was a part of Her. Shiro was a Scion because he was a prince and a powerful priest, he had been trained since birth to rule while Keith had dedicated himself to serving. There was no way he would ever be an equal, but his blood responded to his Goddess’s call.

“Draw your weapon and follow the Way.” There was laughter in the Goddess’s voice as she placed Keith’s hand on the compass’s needle. He pulled it free as it transformed in his hand, the sharp needle lengthening into a razor–honed sword. A bright red ruby adorned its golden gilt pommel, the royal seal of the Sun Kingdom emblazoned across its hilt. It fit his hand as if it had been made for him, with perfect balance and a deadly edge that sang through the air as he tested it.

He lowered the weapon, and bowed low. “I’ll use this to defend your Way and protect others.” Keith hesitated, hand tightening around the grip nervously. “Please Empress? The Moon Scion, Shiro, he’s the one who needs help. H-He’s sick. I need to find a way to heal him.”

But something was wrong. His thoughts blurred, and so did the Spirit World around them as faint sounds of yelling managed to break through.  _Keith! Keith!!_  

The soldier shook his head, startled but determined. “I have to- please! There has to be a way to save him. I need him, he can’t-”

Keith gasped, thrown back into the physical world with a jolt. The Goddess went still as cracks splintered through her chest, filling with a deep violent energy before bursting apart. The statue crumbled into pieces as Shiro pulled his fist back, the metal still pulsing with dark power.

“No!”

The sound echoed through his skull, but Keith didn’t realize that he was the one screaming. Vicious eyes of molten gold settled on him, inhumanly piercing and merciless, but the smile on his face was still so aching familiar. 

_Save Her._  Whispered through the wind. Somewhere above them, what sounded of firecrackers rumbled in the distance.

Shiro was already attacking. Reflexes honed after years of practice were his saving grace, and Keith reached up to defend himself, recognizing the weight in his hand before he could accept his foe. Electricity crackled through the air as metal struck metal, and Keith’s blade came to life beneath cursed silver.

“Shiro!” Keith breathed out the name, confusion and horror warring across his face.

“Traitor.” Shiro spat venom, but his smile never faltered. All of a sudden, he swiped at Keith with his free hand, and lights burned before his eyes, cutting like needles into his skull. Keith howled, bringing his hands up to protect himself, and Shiro kicked him in the gut, sending him flying across the room. The prince wielded magic as ruthlessly as he did his weaponry, and he’d come into this fight prepared to do everything to win. “I thought you would be more of a challenge. I should’ve known better. Even the best the gilts have to offer is nothing but a fool.”

Keith scrambled away. 

“What’s going on?”

“Stop him!”

The others rushed to help, but Shiro threw them off, knocking Hunk to the floor and smacking Lance across the room to crash into one of the shelves. They both picked themselves up unsteadily, unsure how to fight their friend without hurting them. They never had much of a chance. With a strong of soft syllables and a flash of dark energy, they found themselves frozen to the floor and unable to move.

The ground rumbled beneath their feet, large chunks of rock breaking free from the ceiling. With the statue of the Goddess gone, the magic holding the Library together faded and the entire mountain started to crumble.

Keith swung blindly as Shiro lashed out with his Galra arm like a sword, parrying with his own weapon before the prince slammed him back into a wall. He tried to bring the sword up to block, but Shiro clamped his metal hand around his wrist in a grip tight enough to grind the bones together, the burn from the Galra energy searing through his skin.

Keith screamed, but Shiro wouldn’t let him go.

“You never could beat me.” Shiro purred, empty yellow eyes staring into Keith’s as he leaned forward, brushing his lips across Keith’s in a mockery of a kiss. “What would make you think you could now? The Druids are close, I can feel them. They want to take you alive. Why don’t you just give up and surrender to me? I promise I’ll take such good care of you.”

“Shiro stop,” Keith pleaded. The prince’s spell still burned in his eyes, throbbing with his racing pulse as his unforgiving grip tore through his wrist. Keith couldn’t move. He could barely fight back. It felt like Shiro was trying to break him. Keith was terrified that he could. “Snap out of it. This isn’t you!” 

“It doesn’t have to be this way. I don’t want to hurt you Keith.” Shiro whispered. The voice Keith heard before bed, the voice he wished he could take up to for the rest of his life. Soft and sweet and so achingly vulnerable, and he shuddered in disgust. “Unless you push me. Give in.”

“ _Never._ ”

Keith paid dearly for his insolence. Shiro twisted his wrist, and his sword fell from numb fingers. It clattered to the ground. Keith watched as Shiro’s lips moved around the spell. Words like the richest satin curled through his thoughts, until they felt so real, Keith could taste them.

“My Masters only want you alive. You will find that there are a great many things you can live through.”

Thick tendrils rose from the stone, shadows come to life in heavy ropes, and Keith was forced to his knees, his legs spread as they curled around his calves. Still Shiro held on, staring down at him with a frightening smile. Restraints wrapped around his arms and chest, tightening around his ribs as they crawled higher and higher to curl around his throat like a noose.

All of a sudden, Shiro lurched forward, surprise cutting across his face like a knife, bound by a familiar trap, and Keith was falling. The spell was broken, but Keith could still feel it, clinging to him like a second skin. Then white smoke burst around them, nearly impossible to see through. Keith doubled over, disoriented and out of breath, cradling his broken arm, but stubbornly searching for his sword before a gentle hand touched his elbow.

Pidge appeared as if out of thin air, her features tight with fear as she yanked him away.

“We need to go, _now_!” She yelled as Hunk held Keith close to keep himself from launching back at Shiro. “Lance, let’s go!”

“In a minute.” Lance snapped, dragging the enormous tome with him. It scraped across the floor, almost too heavy to move. “I’m not leaving without answers.”

“Lance, we have to leave it.”

“NO! I’m not losing a second time today.”

“There’s no way out.” Dark figures dropped from the ceiling to flank the prince, their faces hidden behind beaked masks and their robes sewn from jet-black crow feathers. The Druids had found them at last, called by the Galra power in Shiro’s arm and the corruption that spread across his face in thick twisted black veins. He laughed as the Druids struck, the sound cutting Keith to the bone.

Violet-black energy snapped like lightening across the space, wrapping itself around Hunk. The earth god screamed, arching back as the energy seared its way through his body, burning through his nerves in a blinding agony. Blood dripped from his nose as his eyes rolled back in his head, screaming until his throat was raw. With a roar, Lance lunged, all semblance of humanity shed in an instant. Nothing else mattered when the world crumbled at Hunk’s cry. Glittering scales poured across his skin like liquid, body lengthening as he knocked the Druid’s back and coiled himself protectively around his friends. Hunk sank gratefully against the dragon, pain fading as Lance took the brunt of the attack. Blue scales turned black with the acrid smell of burned flesh, but Lance refused to move, snarling tongues of fire at his enemies.

Rover squawked and dove at Shiro, sharp tiny talons scratching at his face. It was only a distraction, but enough time for Pidge to help Hunk to his feet. The Library reacted to the unwelcome power in its heart, bringing the entire mountain down around them. The mountain gave a low groan as a crack split across the ceiling, the ground heaving beneath their feet as they struggled to stay upright.

“No, I have to help him!” Keith threw himself Lance’s coils that separated him from the Druids, watching in horror as Shiro cut down the mechanical bird with one strike of his hand. Pieces of metal and tiny gears tumbled to the floor as Rover gave his life to give them a chance to escape. Shiro turned to look at his friends, darkness swirling around him like living shadows as he held out his hand in mock generosity.

Keith felt like a trapped animal as his friends held him back. “We can’t leave him like this. We have to save him!” He snarled, trying to get to Shiro. Whatever they’d done to him, he could find a way to fix it. It wasn’t too late, it couldn’t be. They’d come too far to fail and he couldn’t lose Shiro, oh goddess, he couldn’t lose him. Not now, not like this.

And then everything stopped.

Pidge held up her hands and there was silence. Shiro froze, his hand raised to strike and trailing energy like a streak of fire. Power crackled from the tips of the Druid’s hands, a sickly darkness, but still like the lightening had frozen in mid-air. Hunks of rock from the ceiling hung suspended and even the flickering fire was still. The world held its breath.

“W-what are you doing?” Lance asked in a hushed voice, pressing closer around the others.

“I don’t know.” Pidge admitted, more awestruck that afraid. “I just thought I should do something. It was like the puzzle with the star, don’t you see?” She raised her hand and bent reality to her will, taking it apart and reshaping it like they were just pieces of a greater machine. “The books were talking about patterns, it was all I could think about.”

The mountain folded into itself, sky and ground exchanging places. The Spirit World swallowed them as the others shrieked in surprise and Pidge hushed them irritably. It was too complex for her to understand it all at once, the Spirit World gave her too much possibility. It was a place built for Celestials, their canvas of what could be and what might be before it moved into the physical world and became what was.

Keith slumped between Lance and Hunk, their arms the only thing keeping him up as the tip of his sword dragged against the ground. How could he have been brought so high just to crash? Being the Scion meant nothing if he lost Shiro.

There was no mad escape from their pursuers. They held still as Pidge folded the world around them instead. The landscape of the Spirit World moved in a blur, tiny glimpses of fiery mountains, of endless icy wastes, of ruined cities made entirely out of glass, of worlds beyond any mortal understanding. No one but a Celestial could travel through this land with ease, but Pidge tackled each piece like a puzzle until reality suddenly snapped back around them. With a cry, they all tumbled over into a heap, dust settling around them on the dry earth and the cloudless blue sky above looked close enough to touch. The air was thin and they sat up wheezing, human shaped and disheveled.

“What happened, what did you do?” Keith was the first one to recover.

Pidge looked up defiantly. “Saving all our butts, that’s what.”

“You left him behind! We have to go back, we can’t let them take him.” Keith’s voice was rough with anguish. “We can’t just abandon him!”

“You will see him again.” A voice cut in and they all turned to stare as a young woman stepped forward, skin dark and white hair pulled back with sparkling pins that let a few curled tendrils spring free. She was dressed in armor, looking just like the last time Keith had seen her. “But we have a lot to do before then.”

“Allura?” Keith breathed, cradling his broken wrist to his chest.

She smiled, but it was sorrowful. “Come. The Temple of Heavens awaits.”


	21. Interlude 3: The Legend of the Princess of Heaven

Long ago, when the Sun and Moon ruled their kingdoms on earth and all was peaceful, a child was born to the King of Heaven. She was a beautiful child, smart and kind, with a streak of wild recklessness her father called bravery. Her name was Allura, Princess of Heaven.

As she grew, Allura learned the ways of the diplomat and the warrior, finding strength and power in both the spoken word and the blade. But her true passion lay with the forge her father had given her. With her magic, arms bared and sweating under the heat, she formed each bright star and set them hanging like jewels in the skies.

But war came and shattered their peace as the Sun and Moon tore apart Heaven and Earth. The gods chose their sides and friends turned on each other. In the chaos, the Darkness slithered back into the world and all suffered. Princess Allura gathered together all of those who listened to reason, a team of warriors from each of the warring races. Nagari the black dragon stood at Allura’s side, an imposing, cunning woman with dark skin and jet black hair. Taja, a laughing Earth goddess who danced as she fought, joined them. Where she walked, flowers sprang up in her footsteps and music followed on the wind. The Scions of the Sun and Moon, children of the Goddess’s blood and heirs to their power in mortal form distrusted each other greatly, but for the sake of the world, joined the fight as allies.

Allura called them the Paladins and they stood together against the Darkness.

When the war ended and the Goddesses of the Sun and Moon were exiled, the Paladins stood together in front of the Gates of Heaven and made their sacrifices. They locked the Darkness away and sealed the Gates of Heaven, so there would be no more war. Millennia passed and their fight became no more than myth and legend, passed down by mortals.

 

* * *

 

Allura knelt at the alter, hair cascading down around her as she bowed low. Smoky incense curled up into the air as she set her offering before the great gates. It was only a small token, in honor of a true sacrifice that had happened generations ago. Sometimes, thinking about it still made her heart ache. To close the gates, she had exiled herself, ever to see her family or home again.

She sat back to look at the gates. The Celestials had built the Temple of Heaven place long ago and they had always loved beauty. Their ethereal touches were everywhere from the red painted columns tipped in gold to the fragile gardens where glass-like flowers trembled at the slightest touch. Unlike the temple, the gates were simple.

The gates were older than this place, older than all of them. It stood in solid stone with rough carvings of gods and immortals and men and beasts. Above them all were the symbols of the Sun and the Moon bringing light to the world. Even the Celestials didn’t remember who had made the gates, but they’d stood open since the very beginning.

Now they were closed for good. Outside of the Temple, but the world was still consumed by war, even after so long. The Scions that had come together to lock the gates were gone and their decedents had returned to battle, the temporary truce falling apart as old feuds bubbled back to the surface.

Humans were such fickle creatures.

Allura bowed low again and prayed they had made the right choice. As she rose, gentle hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her in.

“I thought I would find you here.”

Allura turned to meet the embrace, sighing as she gave into her warmth. Her partner carried her smile with sphinxlike poise, almond eyes sharp with insight. Her black hair fell just below her ears, brushing along the dark scales that dotted her nape, widening as they slipped beneath her collar and standing out against her brown skin. She wore a long flowing robe of silvery satin and silk, with billowing sleeves and a high waist, arranged in a style long forgotten.

“You were remembering again.”

“Forgive me, Nagari.” Allura said, her nose brushing against her lover’s, close enough for a kiss that pulled away at the last instant. “The stars aligned again. It makes it hard to forget them.”

“A dragon never forgets.” Nagari sounded almost insulted by the implication. “But you have to come back inside before Coran tries to drown you in tea.”

“Don’t try to challenge Coran on the benefits of a good cup of tea.” Allura mock-chided, but she let herself be lead away, tucking the shorter woman against her side. At the doorway, she paused, looking over her shoulder. This time, Nagari spoke.

“I miss them too, sometimes.”

There was no replacing fallen friends and a lost home, but it was easier to find comfort in the arms of someone who loved her. There was not a day that Allura wasn’t grateful for Nagari’s strength or the loyalty of her people who had chosen to remain behind with her. Such friendship and devotion could never truly be repaid.

The two entered the banquet hall as Coran pounced, shooing them towards a table. “Your Highness! Lady Nagiri, you’re both late. I can’t have you starting this journey off on an empty stomach.”

“You know we don’t actually need to eat, Coran.” Allura said primly as she sat and watched with some trepidation as Coran set a bowl of something in front of her. He had once been her father’s most trusted adviser and closest friend, serving at the King of Heaven’s side. He was more than just one of their most powerful warriors, he was one of the kindest people Allura had ever met. She still remembered clinging to his shoulders as a child as they raced through the gardens of Heaven and how proud she was when he first started to teach her the ways of combat.

He had given up everything to follow his Princess to earth, promising her father that he would watch over her. It broke her heart that Coran must miss her father as much as she did, but she couldn’t be more grateful for Coran at her side. The warrior had taken to his life on Earth with gusto, embracing what he called the ‘local traditions’ and made sure to test them on everyone living in the temple. Some were… more successful than others, Allura thought to herself as she stirred the soggy mess with a spoon. Nagari was less subtle, sniffing the bowl and recoiling.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. Or smells.” A slight Celestial piped up from across the table. She looked up at the pair, her eyes magnified by the lenses of a pair of leather and glass work goggles. She gasped at how Allura looked when she could see straight up the princess’s nose before remembering and shoved the goggles back with a grin. “It’s a whole lot better than whatever the orange stuff was.”

The Captain of her Guard and a master inventor, Allura couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t know Pidge. When it became clear that the Princess would be leaving her throne, she was the first to volunteer to stay on Earth with her.

Allura offered her most convincing smile and gamely took a bite. It was always the texture that was off, just a little, just enough to leave an aftertaste, but while her performance was enough to appease Coran, the smaller Celestial continued to watch her with interest.

“You know, we could postpone.” Pidge offered, aiming for nonchalance but her eyes were too wide, even without her glasses. Allura always wondered if her friend had ever been inspired by the White Lady’s hunting form when she created her own. “The North isn’t going anywhere.”

It would be so easy to say no, Allura knew. She could go into another rest, reawaken when the world was born anew. For a goddess time was a suggestion at best, and the North and her majestic mountains would still be waiting. In the midst of war, there were humans singing in praise of both goddesses, Allura heard them on the wind. They had offered an invitation to the Celestials and if they were going to celebrate in the name of peace, she was going to, as well.

“I’ve spent too much time cooped up in the Temple,” Allura excused. “We should encourage those who seek harmony among the humans, hopefully the good will can spread.”

“Suit yourself, princess,” Pidge shrugged, using the term less like a title and more like a nickname. She spoke as she lodged her finger up her nose, digging around thoroughly before expecting the underside of her nail. She flicked her booger off into the distant, looking pleased with herself.

Nagari looked scandilized. Allura burst out laughing.

“Come on, we should oversee the finally preparations.” Allura said, trying to hide her laughter behind her hand. She dragged Nagari away before the dragon could launch into a lecture on etiquette. It never ended well, Pidge always found some sort of way to retaliate and her pranks were elaborate. Nagari still hadn’t forgiven her for the last time Pidge had bleached all of her hair blonde. “Please tell Coran that we enjoyed his latest creation.”

Pidge saluted as Allura pulled her Paladin down into the halls of the temple, collapsing against the wall with helpless laughter at Nagari’s horror..

“You’re going to have to talk to her one of these days. I have no idea how she keeps acting like that. It’s totally uncouth, she’s a Celestial! She should have a better sense of decorum and-”

The dragon’s complaints were cut off mid-rant as Allura pressed close for a kiss. Nagari tensed, then surrendered, winding her arms around her princess’s neck to sink against her. Allura liked her best when she was tangled in her arms. “I’m glad you’re coming with us.”

“You really don’t have to go, you know.” Nagari murmured as she combed her fingers into Allura’s hair. “They’re just humans, you don’t owe them anything. We could stay here and let the others handle everything, I doubt the mortals would know the difference.”

“And let Pidge handle the trip alone?”

Nagari gave an unladylike snort and quickly tried to cover it. “Maybe send Coran with her, just in case?”

“No, we should all go. It’s important that they don’t forget us, we’re here because we decided to protect this world.” Allura’s smile slipped just a little as she leaned into her lover’s embrace. “It’s just a short trip to join in their celebration, we’ll be home before you know it.”

“But you’re more important than some human ceremony. I know that it’s been tough with you thinking about the past. We can postpone the trip until later. They’re just humans, they won’t know the difference.”

“But I will,” Allura said, with a selfish little shrug.

Nagari rolled her eyes. Slowly, gently, ever so gently, Allura cupped the tip of her dragon’s chin, guiding her into another kiss, goading her just enough to deepen it, to demand more. Allura shuddered as the slighter woman boxed her in, trapping her against the nearest wall. After all this time, she was still seduced by her partner’s strength. So much on this ever-changing planet was too fragile to hold, but with Nagari, she never had to be afraid. She was flushed with pleasure when she pulled away, eyes half shut as Nagari nuzzled against her. It would be so tempting to stay like this, locked in the sweetest embrace. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But it would be just as sweet to explore the world she chose as her new home, with her most trusted confidante by her side. They had the rest of eternity on their side.

“I’ll be okay.”

“I know.” Nagari agreed. “But you don’t always have to be.”

With one final kiss, Allura pulled away, quietly soothed and infinitely grateful. They had a long journey ahead of them, but she was looking forward to flying.

 

* * *

 

The trip north was exhilarating, she always loved when Nagari took to the skies. As much as she missed Heaven, there was so much possibility here on earth. She’d fallen in love with her new home as much as she’d fallen in love with the ones who defended it. It was a beautiful place and always changing, it took her by surprise how nothing ever stayed the same. It was frightening and dangerous with a sense of freedom.

Exactly like riding a dragon across the bright blue sky, the sun glittering across black iridescent scales that broke into rainbows around them.

The people of the northern lands were a proud race. They survived in the harsh grasslands and tall mountains with cunning and with strength. They were wanderers, expert horsemen, and herders, and a great cry went up as Nagari landed amid the city of tents. Small children raced out to meet them, fearlessly gathering to stare at the dragon who preened under the attention.

They were welcomed with open arms and hearty hugs that left Allura off balance but smiling. Nagari kept her dragon form to keep the overzealous herders from doing the same to her. They led Allura towards a bonfire, setting furs on the grass for her to sit on and handing her bowls of stewed meat and mugs of breath stealing liquor.

The dragon curled herself comfortably throughout the camp, allowing the children to hop on her back, as the other Celestials in Allura’s retinue joined their princess around the campfire. When the herders raised their voices in a joyous song, the Celestials returned the gift with music and the entire camp danced.

Allura always loved to visit the Galra.

It would soon be time for their games to commence. Nomadic tribes across the North would come together to compete in games of skill to celebrate the passing of the year, and their continued alliances. Though deceptively straight-forward, the games played in council halls were just as brutal as those played on field.

Allura had found the group that sang the loudest for the goddesses of the Sun and Moon together, but they would have been welcomed wherever they landed. The Galra were gracious hosts.

A sleek tail draped across her side, and Allura turned to see her mate with an easy smile. Nagari was covered in children. They sat between her ears or beneath her chin, and combed their clumsy fingers through her long, snowy beard. They would never know just how annoyed the dignified dragon was. Nagari was too respectful of ceremony to shoo them away and a good guest was nothing but courteous, but she couldn’t hide anything from Allura. The princess made her way to her side, just so she could kiss the tip of her snout.

A little Galra girl with a long braid that went to her waist did the same on Nagari’s cheek.

The dragon huffed out a smoke ring, and a chorus of excited screams answered her.

“You are enjoying this too much,” Nagari accused, in the smooth rumbling language of dragons.

“More than you can ever know,” Allura reassured her, a bright smile splitting her face in two. She wanted to thank her for being here, for sharing this moment, as brief as it was, but Nagari stiffened, so subtly not even the Galra at her back noticed. Allura had known her too friend to miss anything.

They were being approached by a small group. A young man dressed in silks with a fur ruff stepped forward, rolling down his sleeves and holding out his arms in greeting. Allura smiled and took his arms in welcome.

“We’re honored to have you join us, Princess Allura.” The man said warmly. “All the clans are so pleased that you and your retinue were able to come for our celebration.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Allura gestured back at her people. Nagari huffed, the children on her back giggling. Pidge had taken a shine to the fermented mare’s milk and was currently engaged in what looked like a belching contest with some of the local men. Coran, at least, was paying attention and offered the clan leader a deep and proper bow. “It’s been difficult these last years to find those who offer their prayers to both the Sun and the Moon, we wanted to join you for your games. Hopefully, your peaceful spirit will help calm some of the other kingdoms.”

The man laughed. “Yes, well. I’m not sure they will ever stop fighting each other, but that doesn’t mean we can’t all hope for peace and unity. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Lotor, the Jinong. I’m heir of the Great Khaan Zarkon, high king of all the clans.” He held out his arm and Allura allowed him to lead her around the camp.

“Please make sure that your people know how thankful we are for their wonderful hospitality.”

“Of course, our people are known for their hospitality. Even more so when our guests are as radiantly beautiful as yourself. May I ask you to join me in watching the competitions? The games will go on all week, but our opening ceremonies will begin soon.” He gestured out to the wide grassy field decorated with billowing flags and long poles tied with ribbons and bells that sang with the breeze.

“That would be lovely,” Allura said, never batting an eye. There was an elevated platform, built just for the games that overlooked the rolling slopes. Though Allura was the first to arrive, she wasn’t the only honored guest invited. Coran joined her shortly, talking animatedly about everything he wished to bring home. Allura was guilty of only half-listening, not content until she saw her dragon wrapped around a large stone ledge. It was closer than she needed to be. Nagari could clearly see the games from atop the clouds. Allura would have liked to join her.

The thought flared up again, as the Galra heir turned to her and offered her a drink of spiced butter tea, the salt just enough to sharpen its taste. His fingers brushed against hers, with a smile full of self-deprecation that she didn’t quite believe.

Then rumbling bellow of a hunting horn filled the air, calling attention to the ceremonies, and Allura forgot all about the Jinong. A roaring crowd greeted it, as the representatives from every clan raced onto the field on horseback, bows and arrows ready to fly. They said the Galra were born on their saddles and would die in them, and today they displayed why. Each squad came in long rows, arranged around a lead horseman. As they raced, they unleashed their arrows in dangerously graceful arcs, aiming for targets on the ground. It was a dangerous ride, each player brutally aware of how easily war could begin, but there could be no greater show of trust and skill than through honorable competition. Every clan was represented by their heir, save for one.

“It is my deepest regret that I missed today’s race.”  In Lotor’s place, was one of his clan’s generals. “But in the Great Khaan’s absence, his servants have to go where needed.”

“Have you participated in the games before?” Allura asked politely as riders streaked across the green, trailing fire in their wake. She never understood how mortals could be so reckless and brave. They faced the passage of time and their brief lives with a fierceness she envied. Each rider took their lives in their hands and they did so with joy. She wondered if she would learn to feel so deeply and treasure each moment if she stayed on earth long enough. She hoped so.

“Yes, but this year my father wasn’t able to attend. There is some dispute at the borders of our land, so I had to take his responsibilities in the games.” He said, almost wistfully. Lotor touched her arm and sheer politeness kept Allura from pulling away. “I am one of the best riders in the clans. It’s a shame I can’t show you my skills.”

“Yes, a shame.” She smiled blandly. The heir leaned in too close for comfort, knee brushing her leg, and finding ways to accidentally touch as they watched the ceremonies. Allura brushed it off as differing customs, not wanting to cause an incident with their guests after they so graciously invited the Celestials, and held her tongue. Nagari huffed a cloud of smoke from both nostrils, but only kept a close eye on the pair.

Lotor was a generous host, more than generous, Allura thought. When he wasn’t talking about himself, he was heaping gifts and compliments on Allura, whispering sweet words into his ear and utterly sure of himself. He insisted that she sit beside him at the feast, hand-picking the choicest pieces of roasted meats and warm breads for her plate. When the clans broke out their instruments around the bonfires long after the sun had set, he lifted his voice in praise of her beauty.

Allura bore the evening with a smile, uncomfortable with Lotor’s attention but trying to put her own feelings aside. The feast was lavish and the Galra gave themselves over to the celebration, dancing in whirling displays of acrobatics as young men challenged each other’s prowess when enough bowls of fermented mare’s milk made them bold. Pidge even had a line of opponents waiting to test the small Celestial to an arm wrestling contest, while the losers gathered behind her, rubbing their sore muscles and humbled in their defeat.

“Will you walk with me?” Lotor leaned close, breath hot against the shell of Allura’s ear. “Just a stroll through the camp. After that meal, I feel I need to stretch my legs.”

“I really shouldn’t. I have to get back to my retinue. It’s been a long day.” Allura tried to excuse herself, her patience worn thin, but her smile stayed stubbornly plastered on. Slowly and slowly, she’d been pushed towards her limits, and the worst part was that half the time, she didn’t know if Lotor was being intentional in his advances or not. She was under no illusion of how limited her knowledge of the Northerners were, at least, when compared to the heir of one of their most prominent clans. It was so easy to make excuses for him, but Allura found she lost more motivation the longer they were together.

But Lotor insisted. “Come on, I’m sure they can last a little while longer without you. They can find someone else to growl at.” He smirked, nodding towards the long figure of Nagari against the night sky, the punchline of a joke Allura had no interest in entertaining. He linked his arm with hers, pulling her along, and for a moment, all Allura could think about was how easy it would be to put the human on his back.

She knew better.

She let him drag her along, leaving behind the chatter and laughter of celebration, and Allura was already counting down the ticks until she could extract herself. There was a place for grace and dignity, but this late in the game, she thought she could forgive a misstep.

“They say time blurs in good company,” Lotor murmured, as they passed through the shadows of the great Galra tent city. “And you’ve had the benefit of the best.”

Allura laughed, eyes a little too wide as he stepped into her space. “It’s funny, I feel like I’ve felt every moment.”

“I know what’s going on here, princess. I know what you’re doing.”

“What I’m doing?” A slight edge crept into her voice. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

She tensed as he put his hands around her, drawing him against his body forcefully. He caressed down her sides, taking liberties where he wasn’t allowed. “I know you want me. You’ve been practically throwing yourself at me all day.”

“I did no such thing!” She tried to pull away, but Lotor held her fast. “Let me go this instant!”

“It’s alright, you can struggle if you want. I always get what I want in the end, even if I have to take it.” He purred and bent to kiss her.

With a shout that drew the attention of the entire camp, Allura grabbed the prince by the fur collar of his jacket and heaved him across the field. Lotor screamed, flailing as he sailed through the air to land face first in the horse pen. Allura brushed herself off furiously as Lotor sat up, dripping with manure. “How  _dare_  you touch me. I said no!”

“You stupid bitch!” Lotor was almost purple with rage and humiliated as the other Galra murmured to each other, hiding shocked laughter behind their hands. He struggled to his feet, slipping in the mud and falling flat on his back. “I will make you pay for this.”

“I think we’re done here.” Allura said primly as Nagari bugled triumphantly at the sky. She picked her way carefully across the field to the elders, still staring speechless as the crown prince of their Khaan tried to clean himself off, spewing threats. The princess bowed low.

“Princess Allura, we are deeply sorry for any disrespect.” One old man tried to find the words to apologize.

“No, it is alright.” She smiled diplomatically. “I am just honored that we could be a part of your celebration. It has been an amazing experience and I am deeply grateful for your hospitality.” The princess soothed ruffled feathers and eased worried nerves, offering reassurances to the people that they wouldn’t be punished for their prince’s transgressions.

Then leaping onto Nagari’s neck, she gratefully wrapped her arms as far as they would stretch around the scales, and let her love lead her home. Pidge would ensure the rest of their people followed.

“Can you believe him? Can you believe the nerve of him?!” The goddess spat venom, and beneath her, she could feel the rumble of her mate’s growl, more solid than anything so high up in the sky. Perched among the clouds, her anger faded, but her annoyance lingered.

“You could smite him down, and his entire family.” Nagari replied, in melodious purr not unlike a cat’s. Most humans didn’t have the capacity to understand it, and fewer still had the patience to learn. Her tone would never have given away her frustration, but cruelty in her suggestion did just that.

“I could.” Allura agreed. It would take but a moment. Such was the ways of old. But she was tired of battle, even one that would be as swift as the Galra winds. “Or I could pester you about your fondness of children.”

Nagari rose to the bait, following her love’s lead with a flustered hiss. “I have no such thing.”

“You didn’t growl. Not even once, and they were all over you,” Allura smiled, letting the memory take her to a better place.

“They were sticky!” Nagari protested, genuinely aghast. “The smaller ones are even stickier than the adults! Oh stop laughing, I will drop you!”

But Allura refused, doubled over and clinging to her lover’s scales, ridiculously pleased with herself. Especially after Nagari huffed.

“I suppose they were passable.” She reluctantly agreed. “I may have taught them how to speak.” Allura laughed all over again.

A human’s life ended in the span of a smile, and Allura put the conceited princeling out of her mind long before that.

 

* * *

 

The human world was often disastrous, Allura found. Along with their almost single-minded need to throw themselves into danger and end their short lives, they were endlessly fascinating. They tore each other apart, committing breathtaking cruelty towards each other and continuing a war for gods who had left them long ago. But they were also capable of amazing compassion and creativity, spending their short lives creating even as others sought to destroy. Allura and her people often traveled across the mortal world, righting wrongs, defending humans, and trying to spread a message of peace.

In the Temple of Heaven, the Celestials kept their endless vigil and love endured.

Sometimes Nagari disappeared for an age. An ancient and powerful dragon, she had her own rivers to tend to. Sometimes they disappeared together, in the deepest oceans or on the highest plains. They visited the great titan, Manalanta, in his underwater palaces where dragons were always honored guests. They explored the world together, danced with humans and raced with gods.

The Celestials at the Temple learned to adapt. One of Coran’s fondest projects was learning human recipes and he cataloged them all with pain-staking detail. Pidge was always working to redesign their home again and again, excited to push the limits of what the Earth could give her. Her greatest creation was an army of powerful mechanical soldiers who watched over the Celestials and were brought to life with science and magic.

It wasn’t Heaven. There was so much she still missed, but Allura learned to call Earth her home.

“Will you stop playing with my hair?”

“No,” Allura teased, running her fingers through silken locks. Nagari had just taken to wearing it a little longer, so it sat above her shoulder blades, and the goddess was fascinated.

The dragon let out a tired, stubborn sound, but she was lazy and sated, wrapped in her lover’s loose robes as they pressed together on Allura’s bed.

“You know, Pidge’s new creations destroyed the fountain in the courtyard yesterday.” She said as Allura sighed.

“I take it she hasn’t worked out all the issues with them yet?”

“Apparently, they thought the fountain was an enemy, smashed it to bits. Coran was furious, I think he almost pulled his mustache out.” Both women laughed at the thought, enjoying a bit of shared gossip. Allura took Nagari’s hair and draped it across her lip like a mustache, waggling her eyebrows like Coran.

“Now young Pidge, no stone monstrosities in the courtyard! Back in my day-”

“Shhhh, he’ll hear you somehow.” Nagari said, stealing the words out of Allura’s mouth with a kiss. “And that means a lecture.”

A knock sounded at the door, Coran’s voice calling out behind it and both women froze guiltily before yanking the covers up over their heads to giggle. “I’m busy, Coran. Can’t it wait until later?”

“I’m very sorry to disturb you, Princess, but we’ve received an urgent message from the Sun Scion. She apparently needs our help.” Coran said, trying not to listen to the muffled laughter behind the door. After a moment of silence and another heavy sigh, Allura called back.

“Alright, we’ll be right there.”

The two women dressed quickly, holding hands as they strolled through the marbled hallways and intimate gardens of the Temple of Heaven. It was an oasis in the arid mountains set with brightly colored flags written in prayers and golden wheels decorated with the language of the stars. A small group of messengers were waiting to meet them, bowing low at the feet of the goddess.

“My Lady, my people have sent us on a journey to find you. The Sun Scion told us that you may be able to help.” One of the men said as Allura wracked her brain for the Sun Scion’s name. The mortals lived and died so quickly that it was difficult to remember who carried the burden in their blood, especially since the two Scions were more often than not at each other’s throats. It was a war Allura had no interest in reliving.

“I have made my stance clear to your Scion’s ancestors, I will not help your Kingdom against the Moon Kingdom.” Allura crossed her arms regally, face stern. “We will not be drawn back into that conflict.”

“No, my Lady. This is not about the aggression of the Moon Kingdom. We are the people of the Lady’s Scar, we have lived in the desert for generations. We’ve been guarding its secret and we need your help to protect it.”

“Its secret?” Allura looked at Nagari in shock. That could only mean one thing.  _The Great Library._ The Lady’s Scar was a wasteland, she had no idea that the mortals had wandered so far or had taken up residence in the sands. It was a difficult, inhospitable place and the lost library of the Sun Goddess was isolated far from those who would exploit it. But not only had mortals found their way to the Library centuries ago, they were trying to protect its treasures? Humans really were still so full of surprises.

Allura nodded. “Protecting the world’s knowledge is a noble goal. Very well, you can explain on the way.”

They were flying within the hour.

They kept their messengers as safe as any mortals could be in the skies, and left Pidge waiting for a sign that her help was needed. It was a unique situation, and the Celestial was just as eager as her princess was to visit the library. Allura was a child when she last visited. Part of her feared the Golden Empress had destroyed it in a fit of anger.

As the Lady’s Scar came into view, Nagari tensed. The sun was always harsher here, and they were miles away from any sort of water. Yet even from above, their guides knew their path. They were lead towards the heart of the desert, and from there were greeted by a miracle. In the hottest lands on earth, intricate buildings had been carved from stone, in a great city that spread towards the sky. Beyond that, human hands had built the likeness of immortals into the mountain, guiding the way to the entrance of the Great Library, as close to unchanging perfection as they’d ever accomplished.

They were greeted with a cheer as soon as they landed on an open ledge. The city had come out to greet them. They were far from the great capital of the Sun Empire, but this was far more than either immortal had expected in such a desolate place. To Nagari’s surprise, she was almost immediately swarmed by a group of small ones, crying out  _Hello_ in the dragon’s tongue. Their pronunciations were butchered at best, but it was still recognizable.

“Your majesty.” They were greeted by a young woman draped in multicolored robes that hid her curly hair. She had familiar eyes, just like the last Scion that Allura truly knew. “We are honored to welcome you to Fajhar.”

“We are happy to be here.” Allura offered the Scion a bow, but was almost bowled over by a young woman who tackled her from the side, crying out her name. The Princess topped over in a heap, the life squeezed out of her.

“Allura! Oh, I’ve missed you.” Taja, the Earth Goddess was tiny, hair piled up in elaborate braids on her head and pinned with shining ornaments of jeweled birds and flowers with little bells that jiggled every time she moved. Ribbons trailed from her robes, silk sleeves so long they almost reached her ankles. She was beautiful and beaming and strong enough to drag Allura into a crushing hug.

Nagari shifted forms in concern as the children pouted to lose their perches on the dragon’s back, but even Nagari’s stern, imposing frame was no match for the bubbly goddess. She grabbed the dragon too, one arm around each of their necks and hugged them tightly into her armpits. “Nagari too! This is the best reunion  _ever_. I haven’t seen you both in ages, did you know both the Scions are here? It’s like the Paladins are back together again.”

“Will you get off?” Nagari snarled and yanked herself free, smoothing down her clothes and trying to regain her dignity. “It hasn’t been long enough.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Taja.” Allura said gently as the Earth Goddess grinned sheepishly and released her. “Both the Scions are here? That’s a surprise, I would have thought they would be at each other’s throats.”

The veiled warrior stepped forward, clearing her throat awkwardly. “He was a mistake. He wandered into our land claiming to be a scholar, but we believe he may be a spy from the Moon Kingdom.”

“Spy my butt.” Taja snorted and the Sun Scion blushed behind her veil. “He’s a huge dork, I think you’d like him. But you’re here to help, right? I heard they were trying to seal up the Great Library and I just had to see it one last time. It’s a real shame. Do you think we’ll have time to read any of the books?”

“I don’t know.” Nagari examined her fingernails, looking bored. “Do they have books that would tell us how to shut you up?”

“You would know, Nagari. You’re so well-read.” Taja said, with so much earnestness that the dragon flustered, her nose wrinkling as her mouth pinched, a vexed habit she wasn’t even aware of.

“Well good.” Nagari snapped, and walked away feeling like she hadn’t exactly won. Allura wouldn’t let her go far. She didn’t tease, but her smile was too knowing.

“We didn’t know that the Scions had expanded their reach so far,” Allura said, gently coaxing for an explanation. Even though they were still within the Sun Kingdom’s borders, the Lady’s Scar had been nothing but a wasteland, a terrible reminder of an awful tragedy. Yet these people had turned it into something magnificent. The Scion flustered again, and Allura was reminded of just how young humans were.

“My mother-” She stood up straighter, adopted a soldier’s mettle. Some things never changed. “The Empress is not involved with this project, she prefers to stay in the capital. She no longer has ties to our people. But I do.”

Defiant and brave, no matter who she faced. If Allura had had any doubt that she was the heir of Sun Goddess, it would be long gone now. At least this explained why they weren’t being asked to wage war against the night.

“Very well, but may we see the Great Library?”

And suddenly, the Scion lit up like the sun.

The Great Library was even more magnificent than Allura remembered. The humans had been using it for centuries for inspiration of their own creations. They turned the knowledge at their fingertips into something the world had never seen before. Great halls were built around the Library’s main hall, each with its own set of traps, built in an homage to what the humans called a legend, but Allura called memory.

She couldn’t help but be impressed and even Nagari’s eyes widened in surprise at all the humans had managed to accomplish on their own. Each trap was crafted for a specific key, an echo of the unity they’d once had to close the gates and save the world. These people could have used the knowledge contained in the Library for personal gain or to destroy their enemies, but instead, they worked together to protect it from anyone who would be so selfish, and Allura had a sense of pride for these mortals.

Over the weeks, they added their own personal touches to the project, each contributing to the traps that would keep the Library safe from anyone with dark intentions. Nagari shed her skin, giving her scales to a room of dragons, and then spent the rest of the time curled around the camp’s deep wells to stay out of the hot desert sun. Taja laughed as she created a deadly garden, cooing affectionately at the living thorny vines that whipped around her feet while she danced.

The dragon just rolled her eyes that Taja could even find mortal eating plants to be adorable.

Even the Scions found a way to work together, though Allura wasn’t surprised. The tall, shy man with the glasses perched on the very end of his nose and a very old owl on his back hunched over a mound of papers and drawings, planning out each detail carefully while the warrior hung over his shoulder, yelling loudly enough to make him jump. But there were stolen looks and furious blushes that the princess could see from a mile away and shook her head at young love. So much for the Moon Scion being a prisoner, Allura doubted that he would ever wanted to leave now. She only hoped that this ended better than the last Scions she knew.

For her contribution, Allura crafted a star. Even though she was far from the star forge back at the Temple of Heaven, she made due and had to admit that the desert people’s technology were far better than she expected. It was the first star born since the Gates of Heaven had closed and Allura worked for days without rest, haired tied back and muscles straining as she hammered each facet until the star shone.

The rest of her days were spent pouring over everything she could read, from heavy leather-bound volumes that were thicker than a human’s frame to the tiny holy writings written on an ant’s fingertip.

Allura had forgotten what it was like to have a mission, to be able to do something with her hands. So much of her vigil centered on waiting for the worst to happen. No matter how long it took, Allura always wished  _nothing_ would happen, for the good of the world. So it was satisfying to actually see the results of her toil. It was satisfying to know she could make a difference for good and with a team who cared about her and worked with her.

Slowly, lines formed across the Scions’ faces, and wisdom wrote itself across their smiles. She didn’t know how many human years had passed, but the ‘prisoner’ still hadn’t left, and his guard was lax enough that he regularly joined them for tea. It had been long enough to the humans that no one bat an eye when Allura picked up a kettle to serve them.

Their little group gathered around the den in the Scion’s home. Nagari draped across a throne Taja had created mere minutes ago, still in the finest silks in all the kingdom, while Taja spoke so animatedly with their host that the walls of her house jiggled when she laughed.

“Butter with the salt please,” The Scion requested as a round was poured. There were always three to be served. Allura had long ago noted to tell Coran all about it.

“It’s funny. I don’t think anyone but the Galra took their tea like this.” Allura commented idly, bringing over a little canister of precious honey, for their prisoner who could never control his sweet tooth.

“Ahhh I think we brought the recipe with us. It’s all that’s ever served here.”

“Brought it with you?” Allura asked. “How long have your people been here?”

The Sun Scion shrugged one shoulder. “More generations than I know, but there’s legends that say we came from the great grasslands of the north, driven out by an evil demon who ruled over the land with a dark power. Our early ancestors struggled to adapt to the desert, but they were inventive and resilient. In this place, we could have our freedom.”

“That sounds a bit like the Galra, but the last time I visited them, I don’t remember seeing any demon.” Allura sipped her tea as Nagari snorted.

“Their children were pretty demonic.” She huffed as the gathered group laughed.

“Really? The legends said that you did battle with the demon itself! That’s the reason we sent our messengers to you. You protected us once before, we all thought you would want to help again.”

The princess blinked in confusion. “Legends have a way of changing over centuries.” She said with a small smile, reminded again of how different the lives of mortals could be. Even the smallest action could be passed down in story, gaining importance and changing with every retelling. A simple diplomatic visit had turned her into some unknowing savior and Allura wasn’t sure what to do with that new moniker.

“Your highness!” A breathless page burst into the tent, falling down to his knees with a gasp. Blood pooled from a wound at his side where a broken arrow had buried itself between his ribs.

“We’re under attack.”  He managed to say before his eyes rolled back and he was still. The gathered friends stared in uncomprehending shock, the sudden violence out of place in the peaceful desert valley.

Outside, voices started shouting and the ground rumbled with the sound of approaching horses. Horns blasted in warning as the Scions rushed out into the chaos, trying to bring the camp to order.

It was like they stepped out into the abyss.

Darkness pressed on from every side as thick, violet clouds swirled across the sky. The sun had just been setting when they started their tea. Now Allura was afraid it had been swallowed completely.

“What madness…?” Nagari whispered, and beside them, even Taja had gone quiet. There was a power that rippled through the air, something more ancient than Allura, than perhaps even her father. But they had no time to dawdle. They wasted a moment too long, and a scream ripped through the smoke. They were under attack.

“Taja, get as many humans away from danger as fast as possible, then find us. Have the Moon Scion send a message to the Temple. We’ll need reinforcements. Nagari, with me.”

After all this time, they were still versed in the ways of war. If they were different people, it would have been immeasurably sad, but the princess always had a duty that was far bigger than herself. War was just a fraction of her sacrifices.

“Are they here for the Library?!” The Sun Scion demanded, already quick with her sword, and Allura wished she had any sort of answer for her, for any of them. A bellowing roar answered the cries of the charging army, and in one smooth motion, Nagari was rising into the air, lighter than the clouds and a burst of flame ripped open the evening, her long body twisting out of its human shell.

That was when they saw them. Their enemies bore the colors and flags of the Galra, but they were twisted and perverted. They were surrounded by an eerie light, tinged with purple and pulsating power.

It didn’t matter. Allura would make sure they fell on her sword.

With the Scion at her back, they cut a path through the invaders, bolstering the spirits of those who fought for their lives, amidst what was quickly becoming a mass grave.

The Galra fought like they were possessed, forming ranks around powerful witches who wielded a dark magic that left the ground blistered black. Anyone it touched was eaten alive by its power, screaming in agony as their flesh was consumed. Fear knotted hard in Allura’s stomach as she beat back their enemies. She’d seen something similar once long ago, but it was impossible.

The Darkness was almost a myth, older than creation itself. The Sun and the Moon had banished it long ago before they’d even set up their kingdoms on earth. They  had all fought it once before the Gates were closed, but the Goddess’s blood kept it locked in its prison. Realization crashed through her. The Scions had stopped paying their debt, how long since they’d fulfilled their obligation? Time was such a slippery concept, she couldn’t be for sure.

The Darkness had escaped and seeped back into the world.

A voice called out above the others, the Galra’s leader commanding the attack and pulsing with the power the Darkness had given him. Even if the passing of time was difficult for a goddess to track, she knew that there was no way that particular human could still be alive.

Lotor turned to smile at her, eyes a glowing yellow as he mockingly saluted the princess. “I didn’t realize you were going to be here. I have been waiting for another opportunity to see you again, Allura. Now I get to take the Library  _and_ you as my prize!”

Allura raised her weapon, lips curled back in a snarl. “You’re still upset because I rejected you? You are a pathetic man.”

“I am  _not!”_  Lotor’s denial was shrill. “You don’t get to speak to me that way, I’ll teach you to respect your betters.”

The Galra prince attacked and Allura parried each blow. Her arm ached at the strength of it, the Darkness giving Lotor an unnatural strength. He had to be the source of it. The Darkness had infected him long ago, making him powerful and eating away at his humanity until all that was left was a hollow puppet. He’d corrupted his own people, turning them into monsters.

Behind her, Taja screamed as the Galra witches caught her in their dark web of magic. The energy ate into the earth goddess’s body, able to corrupt even an immortal’s flesh. Within moments, Taja lay motionless and the ground beneath them rumbled before growing silent. Taja was returning to the sky, her body coming apart in a shower of fireflies, and Allura prayed they found Heaven. Her heart ached, but her strength would not falter.

“As you can see, we’ve learned a few things over the years.” Lotor hissed, attacking in close while Allura was stunned with grief. “And with the Library in our control, we’ll be unstoppable.”

“You’ll have to get through me first.”

They came together again and again, energy rippling through the air whenever their swords met. In the distance, the human spellcasters had come together. Their chanting strengthening their resolve and the shadows surrounding their home seemed a little lighter as they battled the demons. Air whistled as Nagari soared past, coming up behind Lotor and dragging her claws across his spine. It would have snapped any mortal in two. Instead, the dragon recoiled, roaring in frustration and pain as she took to the skies even as Lotor screamed. Ichor dripped across his damaged armor, and Allura lunged while he was distracted. They moved again and again, fighting like they danced, years of familiarity honing them into an undefeatable team.

They didn’t notice the druid. When they did it was already too late.

Nagari roared, pulling out of a nosedive just in time to tear through the back of the demon prince’s armor, flying towards the skies to redirect her trajectory. She never got the far. A blinding flash lit the sky.

They had done everything right. Allura had taken advantage of her partner’s distraction, and her sword lodged in Lotor’s chest, but Nagari was falling. Too fast and too hard, and completely out of control.

Black veins crawled across her body, even darker than her ebony scales which fell like flower petals down to the ground as the corruption ate away at her. Allura howled, slamming her sword through the Prince’s chest, but it was too late. The dragon crumpled to the ground and faded into shadow. Lotor choked, black blood burbling past his lips as the Darkness died with him. Around him, the Druid’s power flickered out like a candle, and the warriors of the sands cut them down until the desert was stained in blood.

Lotor had to be the source of the Darkness, it’s vessel on earth. Without him, it was forced back out of existence. But even that thought wasn’t enough to cheer Allura as she sank to the ground, sobbing in great gasps, her entire body shaking. Three thousand years of love and friendship and family, snuffed out like a mortal’s death. They were supposed to have eternity, anything else was  _impossible_. None of this was supposed to happen, gods and immortals didn’t die.

They couldn’t.

_Don’t leave me behind!_

The princess cried until the survivors helped her stand, too numb in her shock and her grief to resist. They cared for her for weeks as the nomads slowly pieced themselves back together, finishing their work with a somber silence. Taja’s garden stood perfect and beautiful. Nagari’s scales glittered like jewels among the stone dragons. The Sun Scion sliced her hand and held it to the spelled doors to seal them forever, before pressing a blade beside it, the Moon Scion’s blood dried upon its edge. A scholar had no place in a war, and now there was nothing but the regret of a thousand unsaid promises.

Allura roused herself enough to carry the burning star to the heart of the puzzle machine, sealing it away. Then without a word of farewell, she disappeared, walking back to the Temple of Heaven on foot.

She arrived home months later, robes creased with dust from her travels, and sadness wrapped around her like a cloak. Pidge and Coran held her close, unable to understand what death truly meant as Allura collapsed in their arms.

For a long time, she lived in grief, so hopelessly defeated, any sort of rebellion felt like punishment, until one day, she was roused by a fragile creature. Wizened and delicate, Allura didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone so old in the Temple of Heaven. She did not recognize the woman at first, but the Scion’s eyes hadn’t changed, even if everything about her had.

“It’s true what they say. The gods even make time bow.”

“What are you doing here?” The princess asked in shock. A trek up the mountains was dangerous for even the most fit humans, but her old friend looked like a strong breeze could knock her over. Almost too familiar, she drew the Scion in, cradling her arms like a young child, and the human sagged against her with a tired sigh.

“I’ve been destined to outlive all my friends. I thought I’d find the one I couldn’t.” The Scion joked, but Allura only hugged her tighter. Her voice trembled, shy and suddenly sad. “You left so quickly. We didn’t know what to think.”

Allura hung her head in shame. She’d always known that her grief had affected other people, Coran’s tentative knocks and Pidge’s thoughtful gifts told her enough, but this was the first time she thought she cared. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t be there anymore. Not where she…”

The Scion petted her hand, offering her a kind smile she didn’t think she’d ever seen on the feisty woman before. “Believe me, dear. I know. Knowing Nagari, she would have wanted you to mourn her, I think.”

“Nagari wouldn’t have wanted to die in the first place.” It was unfairly sharp and Allura apologized. Though years had passed, the loss was still fresh as if Nagari had died only hours before. The Sun Scion stroked her hands through Allura’s hair.

“When we came to you, I thought you would be the one who helped us. Maybe fate enjoys a sense of irony to send me to help you now.” The old woman said with a smile. “We protected the most dangerous knowledge in all the world, but we both missed the simplest lessons of all.”

“And what’s that?” Allura asked in a small voice.

“That when we lose what we love, we hold on to hope.” She said, reaching one tiny hand into her robes. She pulled out a golden case, pressing it into Allura’s hand. The compass was ancient, but shone like new, buzzing with a subtle and powerful magic wound into its very gears. “This has been in my family for centuries, it’s a gift from the Sun Goddess herself meant to point us in the right direction. I want you to have it.”

“What? I-I couldn’t.” She tried to hand the compass back to the Scion who just laughed, face creased by laugh lines.

“It finds its ways into the hands of those who need it most and that’s you right now. Someday, when you find what you’re looking for, you can return it.” The Scion curled her hands around Allura’s and pressed a kiss to the goddess’s forehead.

“How are you always so smart?” Allura managed a small shaky laugh through her tears. “You humans know so much, I’m supposed to be the one protecting you.”

“We have to make up for all the terrible things we do somehow.” The Scion guessed, but she settled in closer. “You’ve worked so hard, Allura. You should let yourself rest.”

They talked for a long time, about the life the Scion had lived, the children who would miss her, about what happened in Heaven, about the old days that didn’t seem so far away, and between one moment and the next, the Scion fell asleep. She wouldn’t wake up again.

Allura carried her to the alter of the Temple, a procession of immortals falling in behind her. She never had to say a word, but a hero’s pyre was created for the Scion of the Sun, beneath her benefactor’s light. The birds would carry her soul to Heaven. Even though death had frightened her, the human had been at peace when she passed.

It was a quiet funeral, and their kindest messengers sent word to the Scion’s tribe. For forty days and nights, Allura mourned, but on the forty-first, she stepped from her room. Pidge greeted her at the door with a gasp and threw herself into her friend’s arms. With a bone-crushing hug, she lifted the princess off her feet, and Allura didn’t dare let go.

“You’re back.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long.”

“What happened…?” Pidge didn’t know what to say. She’d never been Nagari’s closest friend, but they trusted each other to do what they thought was right, and they both understood how important Allura was to one another. Pidge had lost a comrade when the dragon passed, and that carried its own weight. Allura just squeezed her shoulder.

“Is a tragedy I don’t think I will ever forget.” No, Allura was certain she would never let herself forget. “But I think for now… I want to rest. Our mission is completed. The darkness has been torn from this world. I think after everything, I just… I need it.”

“I understand,”

“Will you hold watch in my absence?” Allura asked, a formality when she already say the dedication in her friend’s eyes, but Pidge drew her closer and kissed her cheek.

“Of course, and for always.” She said, before daring a smile. “But you have to tell Coran on your own.”

And Coran cried. Of course he did, but he held Allura close and told her that he was proud of her. And that her father would be proud of her too.

Allura locked her door and crawled into bed, ready to sleep and wake to face a new day. The humans could thrive in a world that kept changing and Allura knew she would learn to do the same. The goddess slept as centuries passed, her people standing watch. When she woke, she stretched and dressed, making her way out into the temple and froze.

There were wards on her door. They didn’t hurt her, but they were powerful and protective.

The once bustling halls were silent, the tapestries rotting away and even the scent of incense was long gone. Every footstep echoed along the worn stone as she called out, frantically checking each room. Sand had blown in from the desert and drifts filled the corridors. The star forge was smashed, Pidge’s mechanical warriors sprawled like broken dolls on the floor, but there was no sign of the other Celestials.

She burst into the inner sanctuary, looted and plundered of all its treasures. The Gates of Heaven stood firm, but the stone was scorched black as if a great power had tried to break down the doors themselves. The scent of ash and magic was still heavy in the air even after so long and each breath burned with the familiar stench.  _The Darkness_.

“No!”

Allura sank down to her knees and screamed, the skies themselves splitting open with the strength of her rage.

She had lost her home, her love, and now her family and the Darkness had eaten away at the world while she’d been asleep. When she turned her eyes to the world, she could see the corruption spreading unchecked through the human kingdoms and there was no way to stop it. She had thought she’d stamped out the source, but she’d been wrong.  _This was all her fault._

But now there was nothing she could do to stop it. The only thing powerful enough was to reopen the Gates of Heaven, but even if she could reform the Paladins, it was hopeless. She had sacrificed to close the doors, someone new would have to sacrifice to open them. There were no more Celestials on Earth, the Darkness had won. There was no hope.

She was scared, though Allura hated to admit it. She didn’t know how far her enemy’s influence spread, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to find out on her own. Some days she didn’t know if she wanted an excuse to hide, or a stronger reason to fight. But there was one thing she knew for sure. She missed her friends so much, thinking about them sometimes hurt. Her mistake had cost them their lives and she hadn’t even been there to defend them.

It took a long time for Allura to move again, forcing herself to stand on shaky legs. It felt like eons before there was anything but numbness in her chest where her heart used to be. She moved like she was in a fog, hopeless and empty.

Slowly, Allura rebuilt the Temple by herself, isolated from the world. She barricaded herself away to wait for the inevitable, mourning each of her friends that had been swallowed by the corruption. Brilliant Pidge, brave Coran, beautiful Nagari. She was alone.

She scrubbed away the ash and dust that scoured the Temple, picking up the pieces of her friends’ legacies, putting to rest the last of their memories. Then she rebuilt her strength.

But the numbness couldn't last forever and one day, when she was ready to fight, her compass came to life.

It spun slowly, uncertainly, wandering from one direction to the next as its powers tried to work with hands that were not made to build it, but it always pointed east. Maybe it was her own cowardice or desperation, but Allura liked to think it was fate. She followed it, and with every step, hope grew. With every step, Allura thought she could follow it to the end of the world. She came across a village, small but hidden, and somewhere, a child was crying.

Allura passed through their homes like moonlight, and all those who saw her stopped and averted their eyes, embarrassed at having interrupted a goddess. The humans had been swamped by darkness for so long, they almost didn’t recognize her light. But Allura found a home, by the edge of the village and knocked on the door.

“May I come in?” She asked, and the stunned woman that answered nearly fell to her knees. She and her husband were hospitable, but surprised, and their little son clung to his father’s legs every time he stole a glance at her.

“My Lady, I wish we had something to offer you, but the Emperor, he-…the army…” The man’s shoulders slumped as he gestured around. Their village was in shambles from a recent attack, most houses burned black and the few that still stood housed the shell-shocked, wounded survivors. Allura bowed low at their kindness, the people offering her what little they had.

“Your own army did this?” She murmured quietly.

“Emperor Zarkon, he has punished us for keeping to the old ways.”

 _Zarkon._ Oh she had been so wrong.

Allura nodded and smiled at the little boy who hid his face behind his mother’s skirts. The compass had brought her here to this broken, ruined village for a reason, but it wasn’t until the woman lifted a tiny newborn child into her arms that Allura gasped in surprise.

The glow around the infant was unmistakable, a familiar power that caused tears to well up in her eyes. “May I?” She asked gently and the woman looked to her husband in surprise before carefully handing the child to the goddess’s waiting arms.

“Of course, my Lady. This is our son, Tian.”

Bright eyes stared up at Allura, too wise in an infant’s face. The child laughed, waving tiny hands up at the goddess who pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead. “Hello, Pidge.”

“Pidge?” The mother laughed. “He is like a little pigeon.”

It was impossible and wonderful, and her heart soared so quickly, Allura was almost sick. Tears streaked down her cheeks as the infant gurgled happily. Reluctantly, she handed the child back to its mother and wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

“There is a place not far from here, a monastery. I will lead your people there and hide it so no one can find you. Keep your child safe, they are meant for great things.”

“We will.” The bewildered parents bowed to Allura, confused but grateful. “But my Lady, what about you? How can we ever repay you?”

Allura smiled and held out the compass. “I will return as soon as I can, but first, I need to return this to someone who needs it more than I do.” The old Scion was right, there was still hope. There were Celestials still in the world and she could put the Paladins back together again. The new Scion would need their compass. Together they could beat the Darkness, once and for all.

It was time to save the world.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains references to torture, gore and violence.
> 
> Please leave comments if you enjoy it!

Keith stood at the top of the world.

The Temple of Heaven was high in the mountains and the sky was so close, that he felt like he could reach out and touch it. The air was thin enough that he panted as he tried to adjust, breath steaming past his lips in the biting cold. It was arid, lonely, and heartrendingly beautiful. The first morning light spilled over the mountains like liquid gold as a faint breeze caught the prayer flags that adorned the temple and the surrounding mountain peaks.

The faint hint of incense and spice curled through the air from deeper inside the temple. He had seen Imperial palaces, hidden monasteries, and the Spirit World itself, but in all his travels, he had never felt such a serenity before. It was clear that the hands of gods had shaped this place from the very Earth itself.

Pillars of red stone stood guard proudly over delicate gardens with impossible fountains that somehow brought clean, cold water up from the heart of the mountain. Ancient carvings lined the walls, still intact with bright paints and dusted with silver and gold. Symbols of the sun and moon were worked into the silks fabrics and gilded screens that decorated the rooms, they were stamped into the stone beneath his feet, and they hung proud above him, carved into the mountainside. Once, pilgrims had traveled from across all the kingdoms to pay their respects at this sacred place and the temple was big enough to house an entire city. Now, Allura cared for the empty temple herself, its last priestess and guardian.

Keith reached out to begin his morning prayer rituals, stretching his body towards the warmth and light. He had never felt so close to the sun before, and never more alone. 

_Rising Sun_. Keith fell into a stance that should have been as easy as breathing. It should have been many things.  _Casting Shadows._  He fought, and he practiced, and he fought some more, but nothing ever changed. Shiro was gone. It didn’t matter how hard he tried. Not even the gods could change the past, and though Keith was suddenly many things, he was still no immortal.  _Gentle Light._  How he’d achieved so much power he didn’t know. It felt like he’d cheated, or maybe the Golden Empress had been so desperate, she’d played her cards too soon. Maybe he’d tricked them all into seeing something he wasn’t. They needed a savior. They needed hope.

And Keith had let them all down where it mattered the most.

He over balanced, stance too wide, sweat dripping down the bridge of his nose. His knees buckled and suddenly the ground was coming up to meet him. Keith couldn’t even scream, shock stealing his voice as he caught himself on his hands.

Their fight replayed itself through his thoughts again and again, and every time Keith saw where he went wrong. He saw all the chances he had to stop Shiro. He saw all the places he failed. He’d lost the Moon Scion, and he’d lost his best friend. Now he had nothing to show for it.

Keith pushed himself to his feet. As he cradled his arm to his chest, gingerly checking the bandages that had been changed just that morning, someone called to him from behind.

“You’re over-exerting yourself.”

Keith tensed, mouth pinched in an unhappy line, but he couldn’t tell Allura she was wrong. This wasn’t the first time she’d caught him.

“I know what I’m doing.” Keith said flatly, turning back to the rising sun. It was unfair to be so cold to the Princess, but sharing his feelings was the last thing Keith wanted to do. He felt like screaming that they should be  _doing_  something, fighting somehow instead of wasting time with talking. He knew they needed to carefully plan their next step, but Shiro was out there, twisted and sick, and Keith couldn’t bear to just wait.

“You do.” She said gently, taking up her position beside him. “But you need to keep focused, as hard as it is right now.”

Keith just grunted, falling back into his stance. The goddess mirrored him, moving smoothly through each form, but adding her own to the prayer. Ancient stances in celebration of the Sun Goddess lost to time. The soldier couldn’t help but sneak a glance over, trying to memorize her movements.

With a smile, Allura slowed down her steps so Keith could watch. “Do you want me to show you?”

He wanted to refuse in a huff, but curiosity won out over self-pity and he nodded sullenly. They started slow, striking and blocking and moving like a dance together on the edge of the mountain as the sun brightened in the sky. Eventually, Allura faced him and pushed him directly, forcing Keith to work for every inch. She was an ancient warrior and Keith had to rely on instinct, sweat dripping from his bangs as he tried to keep up. He managed one strike only before she swept the feet out from under him and Keith landed on his back.

“Do you want go again?” She asked, reaching her hand down to him and Keith took it with a fierce nod, pulling himself back up to his feet.

“Definitely.”

And again, and again, and again.

She dictated their fights. There was no denying it, but some rounds went on longer than others, and Keith was vicious. He fought with everything he had, threw all his strength, all his cunning into every round. It was still never enough. He slipped into the languid stances of the Moon Kingdom, and Allura moved with him, seamlessly transition where Keith still faltered. She was baiting him, chasing him, drawing him into traps he didn’t realize existed until she let him pass unharmed. He panted for air. Fought the tremble in his legs. Every time he was knocked down, he got back up, until only stubborn frustration pushed him on. His arm was throbbing, his bandages soaked with sweat and worse, but he bared his teeth when Allura rounded on him.

“Again!”

“ _Enough_.”

For a moment, his arms were too heavy. For a moment, everything seemed so much clearer. For a moment, Keith saw himself rushing at the princess, reaching out and- and- doing something. But even in his own fantasies, he couldn’t imagine landing a punch.

“I have to keep trying.” Every word felt like a curse. Keith needed her to understand. He needed someone to feel the urgency that weighed down his shoulders and bit into his skin. He couldn’t be the only one it crushed.

“Destroying yourself won’t bring him back.”

“I’m not!” Keith snapped. “I’m not! I’m trying to get better. I’m trying to be stronger. I need to save him because no one else will!”

And Goddess help him, Keith knew he was full of shit, but that didn’t make the truth any easier to swallow.

“Keith…” Allura started, approaching him with her palms raised. She could be a ruthless mentor, but she was kind to the grieving. “I know you’re worried about him-”

“I’m not going to give upon him.” Keith interrupted, incapable of hearing what he thought she was going to say.

“No one is asking you to.”

He recoiled, startled she hadn’t told him to forget about Shiro, but his anxiety found a new target instantly.

“I’m not losing him again!” Furious, helpless rage consumed him and he howled, anguish echoing down the mountains. He screamed at the unfairness of it all. None of them had wanted this! It wasn’t their war, this shouldn’t have to be on their shoulders. They had all given up their lives and walked across half the continent to die at the hands of Keith’s own people. He’d betrayed everything he’d once believed in to save Shiro and he couldn’t even do that right. The prince had been tortured, abused, violated, and corrupted. Every time they thought they found a way to be together, they were ripped apart again and he couldn’t make it stop.

_It wasn’t fair_!

His knees hit the stone floor and he sobbed, angry and ashamed of his own weakness. Why couldn’t they just go home again? He couldn’t be alone again.

Allura sat down beside Keith and let the soldier work out his grief. She knew his pain, she’d done the same and there was nothing to do until the despair had run its course. After Keith had quieted, rubbing his face with his sleeve and staring grimly out at the mountains, she leaned against him.

“Why did you come all the way here when you thought you were just a common soldier?” She asked gently, trying to coax out a response. Keith just scowled, not in the mood to talk, but eventually ground out a reply.

“I had to help.”

“You took on the impossible because it was the right thing to do, as mortal and young and unprepared as you are.” The princess smiled, rubbing her hand against Keith’s back. “I might be ancient, but I feel the same way. The Darkness corrupted the people I loved too, it took them away and left me alone here with nothing.”

It was unexpected common ground and Keith glanced over at the Celestial who watched the early morning clouds catch against the mountains, faint wisps against the blinding blue sky. “How do you stand it?”

“Sometimes I can’t.” She admitted. “It took me a very long time to get back up on my feet and there are days when the grief and the guilt is so much that I feel like I’m being crushed. But there is still hope and I can’t let myself freeze when there’s so much to do. We fight together, and we can still stop this.”

“And save Shiro?” Keith’s voice was small.

“And save Shiro.”

“The people you knew, the ones who… After they were corrupted, could they come back?”

No matter how valiantly Keith beat it back, hope still bled into his voice. He knew better. His answer was written in the ground around them, the quiet in the temple, and the chill in its halls. He still inhaled sharply when Allura shook her head. “It was… cruel.”

“Shiro’s going to be different,” Keith said, not unkindly but solemn. He would accept no alternative. If he didn’t have faith, then right now, he had nothing.

And though Allura didn’t argue, she prayed that they would finally be the Scions that broke the pattern. Hopefully there was someone listening.

“Fix yourself up, Keith. We need to find the others, it’s time to fight.”

 

* * *

 

The Temple of Heaven was nestled deep into the mountain, perched alongside the stone that sang with its strength. Deities of the Earth once sang with it when they visited. The goddess, Taja, had done so for four seasons, and it was said that in the farthest mountains, her voice still echoed. Hunk didn’t know that story, but if anyone told him, he would be relieved. It was nice to know he wasn’t just imagining the music.

They were preparing for war. Pidge and Allura worked non-stop to modify the strange golems that protected the Temple. The Princess had said only Pidge knew how they worked, but the little monk seemed overwhelmed at the task. Keith was training like a demon possessed, and Lance hadn’t slept in days. Hunk did his share where he could, but between endless hours of toil, he was able to steal moments of quiet.

Deep in the deserted halls of the Temple, Hunk found peace.

He didn’t know where he was, but at the same time, the mortal god wasn’t lost. The Earth would always guide him. This time, he found what used to be a garden, made of stone and only the hardiest plants. It had been abandoned in centuries passed, too much for only one lonely goddess to maintain on her own. He found a seat near the wall of the stone garden.

_It would take a god to make it grow again._  The thought came to him out of nowhere, but Hunk knew with all his heart that it was true. A different god, not a Celestial, not someone who was more spirit than Earth. He reached out for a moment, a trickle of energy coursing just under his skin, crackling in his palm. All he had to do was reach a little further…

Instead, Hunk paused, and turned back to the scroll he’d brought with him. By now, he’d read it all, and was rereading for the fourth time.

It still felt like reading an ancient legend, some long forgotten story. The strangest part was, it seemed familiar too. Hunk could almost picture himself as the god in the story, dealing with the same fears and the same joys. It was him, but it wasn’t him. And maybe that was the heart of it.

He had been so focused on drawing the line between what was  _him_  and what wasn’t, that he had forgotten where they were the same. The power inside of him was immense and terrifying, but it was still his, sort of. It was just a part of him, a piece of a whole and he’d done good things with it. He’d saved his friends many times over and when he’d changed the garden trap in the Library into some little piece of home, the power had almost felt right. It was exhilarating to be able to use it for good.

And wasn’t that what he’d been training for his whole life?

Hunk had been picked to be the Chosen warrior and no matter what the real reason behind Lance choosing him, he’d still been the one who was supposed to stand for his people and keep them safe. Now, he had a chance to keep everyone safe.

The god in the ancient scrolls sounded a whole lot braver than he could ever be, but maybe there was a chance to live up to the person he used to be. If he’d done it once before, then he could do it again.

He felt Lance’s presence before the dragon appeared, hesitating at the edge of the garden as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to bother Hunk before clearing his throat to announce his presence. Lance was awkward and hesitant, so unlike his normal confident and boisterous self. The change almost made Hunk smile.

“I, uh. I wanted to check in with you.”

Hunk gestured for his friend to join him and relief coursed through the dragon as he tried not to trip over his own feet in his rush to sit next to him.

After everything that happened, it was almost painful to watch. Try as he might to hide it, Lance’s lower back and forearm were still covered in blackened scales. He’d healed tremendously. His mortal disguise almost looked perfect, but Hunk knew that if he ran his fingers across Lance’s elbow, instead of his pirate’s shirt, all he’d feel were roughened scales. Lance didn’t talk about them. Lance wasn’t talking about a lot of things, but as he took a seat next to Hunk, he sneaked a glance at the scroll in his hand, lightning quick and wicked. If Hunk hadn’t known him for so long, he’d have missed it completely, but he was the only one Lance could never really beat at pai gow.

After everything that happened, Hunk was still confident that he knew the dragon.

“Pidge giving you a hard time again?” Hunk started with a safe topic, and Lance went for it with both hands.

“She’s out of her poofy little mind!” He groaned dramatically. “I don’t know what the Hell she’s doing with those guard doo-hickeys, but if she doesn’t ease up, I’m gonna stuff her in a trunk.”

“Bro, I’d pay to see you try,” Hunk laughed, and Lance amped up the righteous indignation just for him, throwing both hands in the air and groaning for all he was worth. They found a rhythm like they’d never stopped speaking, and Hunk’s heart ached for simpler times. He’d been right. Living through one of Lance’s adventures was a lot more painful than listening to one. Hunk was so tempted to let things go, to ignore them until he ran out of options… but every adventure needed its heroes.

“You know, they mention you here, too.” The mortal god admitted, waving his scroll, and Lance stiffened all the way to his toes. “A couple of lines. Even then you guys were, we were…”

The color had drained from Lance’s face, but he wasn’t running. He just looked tired. Hunk had to fight to keep himself from reaching out to him. “I just want to know why you did it.” Hunk whispered. “You could have had your star, but you saved us instead.”

Lance was unused to the silence. He filled the space between each thought with mindless chatter to keep from having to face anything too serious or painful. It was easy to smile and deflect, laughing off the private aches and pretending that everything was okay. Hunk always could see right through him and the dragon let out a quiet breath, folding his legs so he could hug his knees. 

“I love you.” Lance had said those words a thousand times across a thousand lifetimes, but it never got any easier. “All of this, everything I did was because I love you. I’ve been your best friend for so long and I-I just, I want to stop losing you.” Lance swallowed hard, trying to focus his eyes on some spot out in the barren garden so he didn’t embarrass himself too badly.

“If you stayed behind, you could have survived and you’d have had your answer. You left everything in that Library behind to save me, but you could have had  _him_  back if you’d let me die. I’d have just been reborn again, right?” It was a painful question to ask, but Hunk needed to know the truth.

Lance’s hugged his knees tighter, trying to make his human shape coil like his dragon shape could. “I’d never let anything hurt you, Hunk.” He said softly, closing his eyes. “I know you see it as you and him, but to me, it’s all just been you. It’s always been you and I still don’t want to lose you. I would never, ever let you die if I could stop it.”

With a small, watery smile, Hunk pulled Lance into his arms as the dragon buried his face in Hunk’s chest. “You were a jerk.”

“I’m so sorry.” Lance said, voice muffled. “I know I screwed up.”

“You did.” Hunk tipped Lance’s face up and wiped the tears from under his eyes. “You really did, bro. I know that this is hard for you too, but you don’t get to demand who I should be or what I should do, just because you love me. That’s not how love is.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Lance’s voice broke, small and chastised. “Can we still be friends? I’ll try harder, Hunk, I promise. No more running off on adventures or trying to find stars, I just want to stay with you and make every minute we have together special. Is that okay?”

_What if I want more?_ The question danced on the tip of Hunk’s tongue, treacherous and cruel when everything was finally falling into place. “You’re my best friend, Lance.” He said, too serious and too sad. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Lance hiccuped, and it sounded too much like a sob before burying himself in Hunk’s side. He tried to drape himself all over the other man, but that was okay because Hunk couldn’t stand being any farther. They stayed like that for a long time, sharing warmth and sniffling shamelessly. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of Hunk’s shoulders, the tension he carried around for weeks fading away in hopeless relief. He couldn’t wave away everything that had happened, but he never liked fighting. Fighting with Lance was a thousand times worse.

“Hunk…?” The dragon asked, his voice wavering in his hesitation. “What’s going on?”

Around their feet, pebbles had started to dance. They bounced like droplets in the water, reforming the earth around their feet in a gentle ripple.

“I wanted to do something. I wanted to try to fix this place. It’s magical but it’s, there’s something missing.” Hunk confessed. “I mean, I wanted to try. Is it okay?” He looked at Lance like Lance could absolve him.

The dragon nodded, never going to tell Hunk no.

Hunk reached for the power inside of him, embracing it instead of being afraid. The Library had taught him that he could control this and it didn’t have to always be such a destructive thing. Kanloan had been a creator and reading about his own history had made Hunk braver. He could admit that it felt  _good_ to reshape things and bring his imagination into reality. This was who he was and he wasn’t going to be afraid of it.

The ground in the ancient garden groaned, splitting apart and flowing like liquid beneath his hands. He pulled himself up to his feet, took a deep breath, and  _danced_.

He stomped his feet and rock formations shot upwards like small mountains. He threw his arms into the air and a spring burst from the heart of the rock. He dragged his foot through the dirt, water flowing into little streams. Where he stepped, tropical plants sprouted from the earth, their leaves a dark waxy green and heavy with giant flowers that bloomed in defiance of the arid mountain air. Something settled in Hunk’s chest, a feeling of being right.

When he was done, the faded temple garden had been transformed into something that felt alive and Hunk smiled, breathing heavily as he let his hands drop down to his sides. Lance touched his arm gently.

“It’s beautiful.” Lance murmured, not just talking about the garden.

“I’m not done yet!” Two giant palms twisted from the ground, growing rapidly until they stretched up towards the sky. Thick green vines wound around their trunks and Hunk beamed proudly. “Now we’re done.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“Dude,  _hammock_! You didn’t think I walked all this way and wouldn’t make a place to chill, right?” Hunk grinned, leaping into the vines as the trees bowed in under his weight. He stretched back with a happy sigh, resting his hands behind his head. “Ahhhhhh, it’s awesome.”

A mischievous grin curled at the corners of Lance’s lips. “Seriously, dude?”

“Super seriously.”

Lance nodded, looking away like he was distracted before pouncing. The hammock swung wildly as he landed on top of his best friend, trees swaying as they tipped over and landed in a laughing heap. Lance’s brilliant plan backfired when Hunk landed on top of him, squishing him flat.

Allura cleared her throat and they both froze. “If you would join us in the inner sanctuary?” She asked dryly as Lance wheezed for air, but still tried to come off as the world’s suavest pancake.

“Heeeeey, Princess.” He drawled. “Knew you’d like to get us alone.”

Allura sighed heavily as Hunk purposely rolled back and forth to smush Lance. “I think I’m even more attracted to women than I was a minute ago.”

“I can be pretty, too - squawk!”

They were giddy with laughter and lost too much time grinning at nothing. For one glorious moment, not even this cursed war could stop them, and they didn’t even look ashamed when they were the last to roll into the War Room.

“Did you get lost?” Keith snapped, arms crossed over his chest, but he’d found the time to change out of his practice clothes, so Lance didn’t feel too bad about flipping him off. Pidge though, was a mess. She looked like she was covered in ash and had used an oil rag to wipe her face clean. Bits of copper wire stuck out of her hair, and when she wasn’t looking, Hunk carefully picked one out with a nervously choked sound.

“As I was saying,” the Celestial sighed, adjusting her glasses, but her tone held none of its usual bite. “Progress isn’t going well. There’s still… With the equinox coming, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

The Golden Horde continued to march towards the Temple of Heaven. Even though they were terribly out-numbered, at least they had time on their side. Moving an army was not a fast process.

“Zarkon is going to need a lot of power to open the Gates,” Allura said. “Even though the road between Heaven and Earth is the shortest during the equinox, he doesn’t have the pieces to unlock its protective spell. He’ll make the trip personally.”

“But we’re going to be okay, right?” Lance looked around at the dour faces. “I mean, I know we can’t open the Gates and banish this dude without Shiro, but it’s not like Zarkon can open the Gates without all of us either. We’re both stuck and all we have to do is wait out the equinox. What’s the big deal?”

They all turned to stare at him until the dragon slid back behind Hunk and away from the judgement. Allura sighed, resting her hands on the table.

“He already has Prince Shiro and he’ll do whatever it takes to open the Gates for himself, even if it means hunting you all down. The Darkness has been planning on taking over Earth and Heaven since the very beginning.” The princess said, like she was reciting an age old story. “I thought we could just weather the attack and buy us another six months until the next equinox. It would give us time to mount a rescue and build an army, but without the Temple’s defenses-“

“I’m trying!” Pidge all but wailed, burying her face in her hands. “I know you said I made the soldier things, but they’re so complicated and I can’t figure them out. I’m so sorry, guys. I’m trying. I really am.”

Allura wrapped her arm around Pidge and pulled the young girl into a hug. “You’re doing just fine, none of this is your fault, Pidge. We’re going to find another way.” She said, holding her old friend tight. “It’s unfair to expect so much from you.”

“I should be able to do this. I did it before, I should be able to figure it out!” Pidge said, frustrated and furious, but Allura refused to let the young Celestial shoulder the blame.

“We’re not giving up.” Allura said firmly, looking at her Paladins. “Zarkon hasn’t sent the Moon Scion back to the capital city, he still rides with the army. We can get him back.”

“What?” Surprise sharpened Keith’s question, horror and relief warring across his face as he fought himself to stay calm. Allura looked apologetic, but briefly. Keith had no sympathy for her. “How do you know? How long have you known!?”

“Since this morning, it’s why we’ve assembled.” Allura countered pointedly, and it was enough to quell Keith’s temper. “Pidge’s spies just returned, Rover II had a good look at their numbers. The Druids remain hidden and the false Emperor with them, but they’ve promoted Shiro to General and he bares Galra colors.”

“Are you sure?” Keith almost wish she took it back. He knew he would have to fight Shiro again, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon or to matter so much. In retrospect, it may have just been wishful thinking. The look Allura gave him was kind but it was not gentle.

“We can still save him.” She met each and every one of them with a steely stare. “But it’s going to be dangerous.”

“Has anything on this trip not been?” Hunk mumbled under his breath, but Pidge was already barreling past him. “If we get Shiro back, that means we can open the Gates!”

“If he get him back, he might be too hurt to try,” Keith interrupted pointedly, but his concern bled through his ire. Shiro’s safety had jumped to the forefront of his mind, and anyone who cared to look would be able to tell. Keith needed to focus. Too much of their mission depended on getting Shiro back, just as much as Shiro’s safety was integral to their mission. If they didn’t stop Zarkon now, he would never stop coming for them and his darkness would consume them all. “If we get him back, the corruption might still… We never found a cure.”

“And without one, he might not be able to open the Gates at all.” Lance said slowly, and the Sun soldier tensed instantly.

“That’s still a risk we’re going to take.”

“I know! Jeez, don’t bite my head off. I’m just saying…”

“We don’t have any good answers to that. The Gates have only been moved once since their creation, and it took a great deal of power in an ideal situation,” Allura said solemnly. “This is not an ideal situation.”

The temptation was immense, and hope burned with a new ferocity in Keith’s chest. They could end everything in one day. Buying themselves time and retreating would have been the more tactical choice, though they risked surrendering the Temple of Heaven to their enemies. Instead, he could have Shiro back, and make all the difference in the world. If only the Moon Scion wasn’t too far gone.

“Well.” Hunk spoke up softly, almost like he didn’t want to bring attention to himself, but when they turned to him, he sat straighter. “We have Allura, and Pidge is learning to be a real Celestial too. Would our odds be better if we had another fully powered god on our side?”

 

* * *

 

Shiro looked out over the arid mountains, their sheer tips capped with untouched snow. This land was desolate, the few people who lived at the top of the world scattered before the combined might of the Sun Kingdom’s army. Anything and anyone that resisted was crushed underfoot. Temples were looted and burned, villages stripped of what meager provisions they had to feed the soldiers. The Emperor allowed his people to whet their thirst for blood among the poor, promising them more at the end of their journey.

The mountain that housed the Temple of the Heaven was just visible on the horizon, reaching up through the clouds to the very tip of the sky. Shiro flexed his hand, feeling power coursing through his body with a hum of pleasure.  _Soon_. The voices in his mind whispered, filling his thoughts with dark promises.

A roar echoed through the night, and he turned away from the mountains and strode back through the camp where the soldiers had set up their tents for the night. Most snuck glances as he passed, he could sense their fear and reveled in it. Even the Galra commanders gave him wide birth, stepping back as he gave them a cruel smile, lips twisted with black and eyes gleaming yellow.

They called him Champion and treated him with awe and pride, a symbol of Galra superiority. He looked every inch a Sun warrior, clad in gleaming gold armor with violet energy glowing faintly at the joints of his metal arm, pulsing like a heartbeat. Their power had claimed the Scion and Prince of their enemy who led them to battle against his onetime friends. If they could do that, then they would be unstoppable.

Even Heaven itself would fall to the Galra, just as Emperor Zarkon had promised.

“Hold.” A voice called out as a soldier planted himself in Shiro’s path and the prince paused, raising one eyebrow as the young man brandish his sword threateningly.

“You are in my way.” Shiro said, voice calm as if the soldier was too beneath him for a threat, but the young man bristled at the dismissal.

“You don’t remember me.” He snarled.

“Should I?”

“You’re the one who ruined everything!” The soldier’s grip tightened around his sword’s hilt even as Shiro watched him as if totally at ease despite the tension. “My name is Chen and you turned the best soldier in the entire army into a traitor and a deserter.” He peeled his lips back, rage building until his body trembled with it. “I loved him!”

“Ah.” Shiro drawled, another slow, lazy smile curling across his lips. “The annoying little fanboy, right? I remember that you were desperate for him to even notice you, but you just weren’t good enough, were you?”

“Shut up.”

“Keith only expected the best of things in himself and in others. You just didn’t have what it took to make the cut.” Shiro laughed.

“Shut up!”

“How long did you dream about him bending you over, hm?” The Champion mocked, blank yellow eyes boring into Chen’s. “Months?  _Years_? All those pathetic little fantasies and he still chose me. Being a failure sucks, huh.”

“You should have died in the arena!” Chen screamed loudly enough to make the soldiers closest to them look over in alarm. “This is all your fault!” He lunged at Shiro, driving his sword straight at the prince’s heart.

Shiro’s hand closed around the blade, holding the sword still inches from his chest as dark energies crawled from his fingertips. The prince moved in a blur of motion, wrenching the sword from Chen’s grip as he wove black and violet magic with his other hand. The spell burst in the soldier’s face, sending him stumbling back. 

Chen was a trained soldier of the Sun Kingdom, but he couldn’t withstand the Champion’s brutal onslaught. Blood sprayed across Shiro’s face in a warm mist as he toyed with the boy, taking him apart slowly to hear him scream as Chen attacked in a blind panic.  The other soldiers gathered around, but didn’t interfere as their General taunted and tortured the upstart soldier. He countered each desperate, disorganized attack with grace, slashing the soldier’s armor to shreds. It could have been over in an instant. Chen wasn’t a challenge, he was a nuisance. but Shiro wouldn’t allow it. He drew out the fight for his own amusement, drawing Chen close enough that he could dig the broken edge of Chen’s sword into his eyes in a flood of gore.

With a wail of pain, Chen hit the ground and Shiro was on him in an instant. He traced the burning hot tips of his metal fingers down the soldier’s cheek, watching the skin blister and blacken as Chen screamed. “Please!” Chen gasped. “P-please don’t.”

“Poor boy, you thought you had a chance. You were never good enough.” Shiro said, mockingly sweet. “And you never will be.” With an eager, hungry smile, he drove his arm through Chen’s gut. Chen’s eyes widened, blood bubbling past his lips in shock before rolling back into his head. He lay still as Shiro pulled away, shaking the gore from his hand.

“Clean up this mess.” He ordered as one of the Galra soldiers snapped to attention, barking orders at the others to remove the body from the Champion’s sight.

Shiro sighed, fighting back the sense of boredom. The soldier had been inferior in every way, it was almost too easy. He’d been hoping for more of a challenge to satisfy the need the voices kept promising to fulfill.  _Soon_ , they vowed, and Shiro glanced back at the mountain with the hidden temple and its protectors waiting for him.

_Soon, Keith. I’m coming for you._


	23. Chapter 23

Deep inside the mountain, the sound of metal beating metal echoed through the Temple, making the Earth ripple with every clang. The Great Anvil hadn’t sung in centuries, but it echoed like the Princess had never stopped building. The last time a star was created on Earth, it had been locked away. Now, one was being forged to set a soul free.

Old magic flowed through the room, so thick and so heady, it made the hairs on Hunk’s arm standing on end. He could control lava with a thought, yet being in the room felt too hot. 

“I need some air.” He said, and beside him, Lance nodded stiffly. In his hand, the dragon clutched his hat like it could shield him from whatever may come. For all Hunk knew, it could. It obviously wasn’t just a hat. Maybe there was room in it for both of them to hide. “ _You_ need air too, dude, come on.”

He yanked on the back of Lance’s collar and dragged him away with an indignant squawk. Allura didn’t seem to notice her audience had left.

They took a long flight of stairs towards the center of the Temple, and the temperature dropped dizzyingly.

Hunk collapsed on the first chair he found, arms splayed out in every direction as he groaned for all he was worth. Lance did not join him.

“Lance, you look like you ate a lemon.”

 _Are you sure?_   The question was written across Lance’s face even if he didn’t say a single word and Hunk appreciated that he was trying, even if he looked like he was going to burst from the effort.

“I’m okay with this.” Hunk said softly and Lance let out a breath like he’d been punched, words tumbling free.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I know I don’t, I  _want_   to.” Hunk’s words made Lance snap his mouth shut in confusion, but the Earth god just smiled. He reached out and pulled Lance in until the two of them were squeezed on the chair, Lance more on his lap than anything. “I don’t know what’s going to happen and I guess I’m still a little nervous about it, but I want to help.” He paused, furrowing his brow before shaking his head slightly. “No, more than just that. I want to do more than just fight. All that stuff about Kanloan, he found ways to build things and help people that wasn’t about war, and I want to do that.”

“Oh, Hunk.” Lance cupped his face, brave enough to kiss him as Hunk leaned forward, lips parted to meet him. “You’ve always been a hero, you don’t need magic to do that.”

“I’m doing this for me.” Hunk’s voice was soft as Lance rested his forehead against his best friend’s, their eyes closed. “It’s part of who I am and I’m not scared of it anymore.”

“I love you, you know that, right?” Lance whispered. “Not because of the past or anything. I love you, you’re my best friend in the whole world.”

Hunk gave a rumble of laughter. “I know I am, who else could put up with you?”

“No one.” Lance said, without hesitation and without any trace of humor. It was disconcerting to see him so earnest, and he squeezed Hunk tighter, an unintentional reminder of all the strength he kept tightly leashed around his human. Soon he wouldn’t have to hold back, and that delighted and terrified him in equal parts.

“Hey, hey. Why are you crying?” Hunk was careful, wiping away the dragon’s tears with the back of his hand, and Lance hiccuped shamefully. He tried to smile through his fears.

“I don’t know what happens next, buddy.” The dragon confessed. “I don’t think it’s ever been done before. Everything I read, everything I heard… they’re the legend of legends. There’s no way to know for sure. And if it doesn’t? I guess. I don’t know. I guess I’ll be just a fish again, and I don’t know what happens to you. What if you get hurt?”

“Well, I didn’t think eating a star would be _safe_.” Hunk said, trying for a smile, and when Lance snorted, he felt vindicated. “Why’d you be a fish?”

The pirate shrugged helplessly, his palms facing the ceiling. “Dragons need their pearls. It’s our wisdom. Without them, we’re… fish. But I was a very pretty fish. If it means you don’t have to die anymore, it’ll be worth it.”

“I… I’m sorry, Lance. I don’t know what happens either, but I trust this. It feels real to me. It feels like it’ll work. Maybe I’m just hoping. I don’t know what’ll happen next, but I want you to know that I love you. Without the memories. Without anything else. Just a lot of soft, squishy human. I love you, and I always have.”

Lance inhaled sharply, his eyes too wide, his cheeks flushed with color. In one long breath, he wheezed, “I wanna kiss you now I’m gonna kiss you so hard if you don’t wanna you better-”

Hunk cut him off with a kiss. That was okay. Lance stole the second one. It was sweet. 

It was perfect.

Allura found them before they managed to get their pants undone and Lance scowled, retying his robe angrily. The princess rolled her eyes. “If the two of you are done, we’re ready.”

“We’ll be there in just a minute.” Hunk said, pulling Lance back down. Allura sighed and left them to their privacy.

She headed back to the forge where the newborn star sat shining brightly among the ashes, a pulsing diamond that blazed with pure light. Pidge leaned over it, mesmerized by their creation and Allura smiled fondly, seeing the goddess’s own light shining around the young girl.

“You like it?”

“It’s beautiful.” Pidge breathed. “I can’t believe we actually made it. Did you make all of the stars?”

Allura laughed at her friend’s excitement. “Most of them. You liked to help, when you weren’t tinkering with your own projects. I’ve never seen anyone so inventive or creative before. You’ve always been something of a marvel.”

The young girl’s face scrunched with worry as she turned to look at Allura. “But what if I’m not that smart anymore? I can’t get those soldiers to work and I’m the one who made them! If we can’t-”

“We’ll figure something out. We’ll be okay.” Allura promised, though she wasn’t sure how she’d keep it.

Pidge bit her lip, glancing back at the star. “Hunk is going to embrace his godliness thing, I should do it too. I’m like you, I can feel it.”

“A Celestial, yes. You were one of my closest friends for a very long time. You kept me safe while I slept and when I woke up, I thought the Darkness had found a way to destroy all of you.” The Princess couldn’t keep the grief from her voice and Pidge put a comforting hand to her arm and Allura gave a weak laugh. “I should have figured that you’d be smart enough to find a way back. Being born as a mortal, no one would ever find you.”

Pidge lowered her head, but it wasn’t shame that humbled her, rather her lack of it. “I’ve been thinking about this, and… I like it here. I like how it feels. I like how I feel free, like I can do anything and no one’ll want to hold me back, and I’ve never felt that way before. And if it’s okay, I want to stay here, with you.”

There was so much hope when she spoke, that Allura took a step forward, then another. It was Pidge who closed the distance between them, pulling her into a stubbornly tight hug.

“You will always be welcome here,” Allura insisted fiercely, and her voice trembled with emotion. She could never keep her old friend prisoner, but it felt like Pidge was finally coming home, and her heart soared.

“Jeez, don’t cry!” Pidge scrambled to comfort. “But you’re going to have to teach me how to make those star thinggers. It was fun.”

To her surprise, Allura started laughing, open-mouthed and without a wisp of self-consciousness. “You said, you said the exact same thing the first time we worked together. The exact same.”

Pidge beamed proudly, ready to step into her new life.

A soft sound behind her made Pidge pause as Lance cleared his throat to get their attention. He was flushed and rumpled, but smiling and Hunk’s hair was a mess. They looked altogether too pleased with themselves, but before Lance could open his mouth to brag in front of Pidge, Allura quickly took charge of the situation.

“Are you both ready to begin? We’ve made the star.”

The dragon’s attention snapped to the glowing jewel with a desperate sort of hunger, so many years spent searching for just such a thing, but he controlled himself and leaned into Hunk who wrapped an affectionate arm around his best friend.

“Yeah.” The Earth god said. “We’re ready.”

Lance had memorized the ritual, repeating it to himself for centuries over and over again whenever he’d felt like giving up. The cup of Kanloan, he’d kept it safe all these years. He still remembered the first time they’d met when he was just a koi and he’d been scooped up inside with no way out. A pestle made from coral from the Sea God’s palace. A bit of power from the one who’d cursed them. A star from the heavens, the power to bind it all together and spark its magic.

And a pearl.

The dragon sat down and placed each piece reverently on a piece of silk stretched out on the stones. Hunk sat across from him, watching quietly as Lance’s hands hovered over each item. The pearl was perfect, creamy and rich. Lance had only won his wisdom because of Hunk and their love for each other. He’d finally understood what it meant to stop thinking of himself and give to others. It was only fitting that he’d lose his pearl the same way.

It didn’t matter if he went back to being a koi again, he’d finally found something worth more than being a real dragon. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to steady himself, Lance brought the coral down and crushed the pearl, grinding it into a fine powder. Hunk winced at the blow, but stayed silent.

Lance sprinkled the powder into the cup, filling it with pure clean water and holding it up so Allura could carefully drop the star inside. The tea bubbled and hissed from the heat, scorching hot in Lance’s hands as he held it out to Hunk.

“I love you, dude.”

Hunk’s smile wavered, and he carefully smoothed back Lance’s hair, eyes suspiciously damp. Everything could change now, and there would be no going back after this. Worst case scenario, he could die. Best case - well, Hunk wasn’t sure humans were supposed to be able to fathom eternity. So many of Kanloan’s memories faded like dust in the wind when he thought too hard about them. But he wanted. Oh god, he wanted.

“This is going to taste terrible. How long’s it been in your hat?” He teased, but he sounded too fond to pull it off. The truth rang clear. _I love you I love you I love you so damn much._ “Bottom’s up.”

Hunk tipped his head back and downed it all in one go.

The tea was smooth but spiced, and a little too warm. Hunk would have liked to add butter to it, but everyone watched with baited breath as he squinted at the bottom of his cup, making sure he got every last drop and absently rubbing his belly.

“How do you feel?” Allura asked, breaking the silence more gently than anyone else would’ve managed.

Hunk burped, and blushed furiously. “Sorry. Um. Kind of hungry? I don’t think anything’s changed. I’m sorry.”

Pidge’s shoulders sagged, and for a moment, a look of utter heartbreak cut across Lance’s features before he smiled bravely. “Maybe the pearl went stale. No problem, buddy.”

“I really thought this would work.” Hunk lowered his eyes, disappointment too fresh and too raw to do anything but ride through. He turned the cup over, considered trying to lick it clean and wrinkled his nose. “I can’t believe you ever fit in this thing.”

Lance froze.

“Do you? Are you?” Lance couldn’t get the words out, staring at Hunk and so hopefully that he couldn’t breathe. With one tiny nod from Hunk, Lance was on him, bowling the Earth god over in a heap. He was laughing or sobbing, he couldn’t tell the difference anymore, and Hunk’s entire body shook as he chuckled, holding his foolish pirate close.

“You’re just as gullible as I remember.”

“But you do remember!” Lance wailed, smiling grossly through his tears as he stroked Kanloan’s face. “But Hunk, is he-?”

“It’s still me, dude. It’s always just been me.” Hunk laughed, reveling in millennia of lost memories. All the heartache and all the joys, all the stupid little moments where they’d laughed until they cried and the ones that terrified them. A hundred lifetimes, a hundred chances. But the two of them had always been a constant. Even a Sea god couldn’t tear them apart.

Flowers bloomed around them in a riot as Hunk’s powers burst in every direction and even Allura wiped away a tear to see their reunion.

“It really didn’t change anything?” Lance breathed.

“I dunno, dude. I feel a little gassy. Still hungry too.” Hunk belched again. “I feel the same, just like, more? I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not as scary as I thought it would be.”

Lance nodded and tucked himself under Hunk’s arm, resolving never to leave his side again.

Realization flickered across Hunk’s face, dampening the boundless joy as he remembered what Lance had given up to let him be a real god again. “Oh Lance, your pearl. You worked so hard for it.”

“I don’t mind being a fish again.” Lance said weakly. “I haven’t seen my siblings in a long time, I’ll bet the young ones don’t even remember me. I’ll have to teach them a thing or two about being a real fish. Besides, it was worth anything for you, Hunk. And I’m a pretty fish, I made you fall for me, didn’t I?”

“You’re not a fish.” Allura said, regaining her composure. “You do know that, right? Even I can tell.”

“What? No, I am a fish,” Lance said, punctuating each word with a spirited hand wave, dramatically sagging against Hunk’s side with a sigh that made his bones tremble. Hunk patted his back kindly and nuzzled his hair, before vehemently insisting, “You are the prettiest fish, Lance. You had the brightest scales.”

“No. Really.” Allura said, through gritted teeth as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She muttered something unflattering under her breath about knowing dragons, but it was lost under another of Lance’s exhausted sighs. He pushed himself away from Hunk, face a mask of pain and wounded pride as he grabbed at his chest.

“There’s only one way to solve this. Then you’ll all see.” With another huff, he focused inward, and one by one, scales started to crawl across his arms. Bright and polished, they gleamed even in the dull light, and Lance’s human form shifted into something far more honest. He grew out of his skin. And then he just wouldn’t stop.

A long, serpent-like form curled around the Forge, claiming every inch of available space. Pidge squawked as she ducked out of the way. Hunk gasped like all his birthdays had come early, and Allura just rubbed her head a little harder. When it stopped, Lance was bowled over by an Earth god, strong enough to lift his dragon off the floor, but all Hunk did was kiss the tip of his pretty snout.

“I’m still a dragon!” Lance crowed, wrapping his coils around Hunk and squeezing him tight.

“Of course you are. Wisdom just doesn’t go away after you’ve found it.” The princess shook her head at the pair, but couldn’t hide her smile. “Sacrifice for someone else is one of the most powerful magics in existence. You were willing to give up something important to you to save someone else, that’s what matters.”

“And I’m still a dragon!”

“Yes.” Allura deadpanned. “You’re still a dragon.” The  _I told you so_  went unsaid, but hung in the air.

“And I’m never going to lose you again. Not ever ever ever.” Lance babbled as Hunk hugged him tight. He reluctantly shifted forms, he’d grown to like how humans hugged, and it was always nice when Hunk picked him up.

“As glad as I am to have a fully powered Earth god on the team, we don’t have time to celebrate.” Keith said from the doorway, already annoyed and trying to put a stop to any shenanigans. “The army is almost at our doorstep.”

Lance made a face, silently mocking Keith behind his back as Hunk and Pidge tried to muffle their giggles but Allura stepped forward in agreement.

“Once we defeat the Darkness, there will be more than enough time to celebrate your reunion. But Keith is right, we need to focus on our next move. We can’t fight Zarkon’s army if we wait for them to arrive, but if we strike first while they aren’t expecting us, we might just have a chance.”

Keith gathered the team around as he unrolled a hastily scribbled map. “I have a plan.”

 

* * *

 

The winds howled through the night, beating down on the army’s tents with a biting chill that had every soldier tense with fear. The men whispered about how it seemed like the very Earth was trying to kill them. Shiro smirked at the idea. They were the best the Sun Kingdom had to offer, but they were still so foolish. It was no wonder they still hadn’t claimed their long-time rivals to the West. That didn’t matter. Once this was over, Shiro would lead the assault on the Moon Kingdom himself.

The Champion strode through the camp, more wraith than man in the dim. His former Lady hid her face tonight. Shiro didn’t want to admit that it was a relief, but those thoughts were buried so deeply, Shiro wasn’t sure they were his own. What he was sure of was that, come dawn, the Temple of Heaven would fall, and with it, the rest of the world.

Looking up at a vaguely familiar sky, Shiro felt a rush of pride at what was to come, but when the wind blew, it sounded like it was screaming.

“Champion!” An urgent, frantic soldier called to him from across the camp, running as fast as he could, and Shiro was immediately alert. No one spoke to him. They were too scared to even try.

“What is it?” He barked, and the other man jerked to a stop, bowing in an uncomfortable, aborted gesture.

“We’re under attack. All sentries on the north path have been killed.”

Shiro froze, absolutely certain there was only one person who could be responsible.  _Keith._

“Rally the troops and prepare for their magic tricks.” Shiro snapped, his metal arm flickering with power. “You know what to do.”

The soldier saluted and raced off, rousing the rest of the army who sprang to their feet. Even if their enemies had the benefit of a surprise attack, the Sun Kingdom soldiers were the best trained in the entire world. A few pathetic half-gods were no matched for their combined might. Hunk, Pidge, and Lance might have been powerful, but they weren’t real warriors and up against an army, they would fail. That just left Keith.

Overhead, the tiny squawk of mechanical spies gave away their position and Shiro smiled. Pidge had remade her little friend in copies to be her eyes on the battlefield, but she was easy enough to blind. He called a storm, pouring his energy into the wind to whip it into a frenzy and send the little mechanical birds crashing to the ground, but the spies had already done their job.

It had begun.

Just as the Sun Soldiers moved into formation, the ground beneath Shiro’s feet rumbled and split as Hunk raised great furrows from the earth around the soldiers, keeping them trapped inside. Great muddy walls kept them trapped in a complicated maze as the Earth God danced, dividing the soldiers and keeping them too disorganized to form ranks. Shiro could see the outline of Hunk’s body, deceptively agile as he stomped his feet in the mud, sending the soldiers crashing down to their knees. 

Two warriors whirled through the chaos, cutting down anyone who managed to stagger up to their feet. Allura moved with death in her footsteps, a warrior of Heaven trained for battle. No mortal soldier could stand against her might even as the Galra Commanders howled for their men to fall back in line. The princess held the brunt of their attack with Lance darting in from behind. The pirate fought dirty, cutting down the Sun Kingdom’s finest as the slipped in the mud. When Pidge called out a warning that some of the soldiers were moving to flank him, Lance spun, hurling slim daggers at his enemies. The blades caught in the vulnerable patch of skin beneath the soldiers’ helmets and they fell, choking on blood. 

The army struggled to hold itself together in the chaos, but Shiro ignored them. The Galra commanders could handle the problem. They had their orders, as did he, and Shiro closed his eyes for a moment as the soothing whispers promised him blood before the sun rose. The most important piece was missing.

Darkness whirled around his feet like smoke, twisting and alive as he summoned his powers. It moved like a living thing, a blackness so dark that it seemed as if someone had cut a piece out of the world. He whipped the storm into a frenzy, great bolts of violet lightning searing down from the sky to strike at friend and foe alike. If they didn’t survive, they deserved their fate.

It wasn’t sound or sight that alerted Shiro, but he felt the presence in his very core, twisting something inside of him with a desperate need. It crept beneath his skin, the same dark magic that encased his cursed limb. Shiro had never felt so hungry.

Keith was little more than a shadow, but when he lunged, Shiro was ready. He turned in a graceful arch, arm raised to meet Keith’s sword in mid-air, but Keith was stronger than he remembered, his eyes alight with new power. Shiro was forced back an inch, mouth turned down in a vicious snarl. It was the last ground he would lose.

“Good.” Shiro sneered, magic pulsating through metal. It licked across the length of Keith’s sword, bathing him in an eerie light. “I thought you were going to make this easy for me, Keith. It’ll be so much more satisfying when I make you beg now.”

“Give. Shiro. Back.” Keith snapped, pushing away and narrowly avoiding Shiro when he moved with him, striking in the same breath. It was a deadly chase played in the moments between a blink and the pauses between each breath. They parried and struck, dancing with each other, building speed and momentum with every strike and battling through the storm. Keith was faster, but Shiro was stronger. Then Shiro proved just how strong he was.

Wind lifted Keith from his feet, trapping his arms to his sides as he fought against the swirling prison. Shiro stretched out his hand, coaxing the vortex tighter until Keith gasped, breath driven from his lungs and ribs creaking under the strain. “I  _am_  Shiro.” He purred as Keith snarled like a cornered animal, stalking closer to his prey. The yellow glow of his eyes caught in the darkness, nothing human left inside.

“You’re nothing like him!”

“I’m everything you ever wanted to be.” The Champion mocked, pulling Keith closer so he could caress cold metal fingers down the side of his face. “I remember how hard you tried, Keith. You gave them everything and it wasn’t enough, was it? You were never enough.”

“Shut up!” Keith hissed, trying to bite when Shiro leaned in too close. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Shiro laughed, letting Keith catch his lip and kissed him with the metallic taste of hot blood filling their mouths. Keith spat, red-black blood drooling down his chin. “I remember how scared you were of failing and your face when I humiliated you in front of your men. I remember the look on your face when they started abandoning you one by one. You keep fighting, but deep down, you know it’ll never be enough. You’re nothing, Keith. You’re worth nothing. That’s why everyone keeps leaving you.”

Keith wanted to throw back some retort, wielding his words like weapons, but he could barely drag enough air to breathe past his bloodied lips and Shiro knew exactly how to strike at his most private weaknesses. He was the Sun’s chosen, he was the Scion! She’d picked him to be her heir and had given him power to fight back.

 _But do I really deserve it?_   The familiar doubts crept in as he lost himself in Shiro’s empty eyes.  _What if he’s right? What if I can’t save him?_

“It’s just you and me, Keith, there’s no one to help you. There never was. You’re going to die alone and no one will even miss you when you’re gone.” Shiro leaned in close, licking the blood from Keith’s lips as his captive gave a choked groan. “I used you to keep myself safe, you were just a convenient tool. Fooling you got me one step closer to escaping. I never loved you, I can’t believe you were stupid enough to believe it.”

It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true, not with how tightly Shiro held him when they were together, or the warmth in his eyes when he looked at him, but it stil hurt. It was a painful reminder of how deeply Shiro had loathed him, how terribly they’d fought to find peace. His pulse raced against Shiro’s fingers, frantic and pleading on unforgiving steel. 

They hadn’t given up then. Keith was too stubborn to give up now.

He was fading fast, consciousness slipping through his fingers like grains of sand as the storm raged on, but there was an inferno burning through his veins, twisting through him, so intense he didn’t know how he hadn’t been set aflame. Everything else burned away as his lungs screamed for air and his skin went numb. The monster wearing his lover’s face took away everything that mattered to him, Keith was forced to face the only truth that stayed. 

The truth.

A surge of fire burned between them, erratic and directionless, parting the darkness as it raced to the Heavens. Shiro recoiled in shock, magic racing from the tips of his fingers to shield him just in time, but he was still knocked to the ground. Keith collapsed on his hands and knees, coughing for air, but a glow lit his skin, like armor spun from spider webs.

The Golden Empress had chosen her Scion.

He struck before Shiro could get to his feet. His sword moved like an extension of him, graceful and deadly and radiating with power. Keith had an advantage and he pressed it, attacks battering Shiro’s shield. The marks of their journey had taken their toll. The economical precision of the Jade Monks bled with the lost fury of the nomads of the Lady’s Scar. This was more than his right of birth. This was everything he’d strove for since he was born, earning the right to a legacy that stretched out to the dawn of time.

The army had shown him the Way and every step in his journey had taken him one step further down the path. His people had lost their history and their magic to the Galra, and even their prayer forms were a shadow of what they used to be, but he had learned. From the monks, from the nomads, from Allura herself. Keith stopped fighting and started praying. 

_Rising Sun, Casting Shadows, Gentle Light._

Shiro snarled, regaining his composure too easily, but the battleground had shifted. He wasn’t only fighting Keith. Something ached inside him, a force that felt too familiar, and even though darkness reigned, the Moon chose to turn her face, a thin sliver of light shining above her kingdom for the first time that night. It stood as a reminder that though She turned her back, She would never leave.

Keith pushed harder, keeping Shiro on the defensive. The ancient sword scraped down Shiro’s metal arm as the prince parried in a shower of golden sparks. Flames licked at Keith’s heels as he dug his feet into the mud, drawing from the well of rage and hurt and love. The world kept tearing everything away from him, but he wasn’t going to lose again. Not now, not when it was Shiro.

“Give up.” Shiro panted, leading Keith through their deadly dance. “Give in to me and I’ll spare you. I know exactly what you begged the fox demon for and I can give you that, Keith. All you have to do is submit.”

Was this the only way they could have a future? Keith remembered how good it felt to let go and just believe the lie, too desperate and alone to keep fighting. He had given up then, he’d been ready to let everything end if it meant just one more moment of happiness.

He wasn’t giving up now.

He closed his eyes and moved by instinct. Shiro struck quickly, but Keith’s sword met each blow and twisted the attack to the side. The flames flickered brighter like a halo around him as he gave himself over to his Lady’s teachings, mirroring Shiro’s every move. The wind plucked at his clothes, trying to find a way to cut through Keith’s armor, but he ignored the dark magic as he wove his own.

_Dappled Beams, Sunlight through Branches, Light Over Water._

“Give up! You can’t win. You could never beat me!” Shiro cried, the command as sharp as any dagger, but for the first time there was something behind those cold, cruel eyes. There was fear. And there was hope.

The ground was dancing around them, and from above came the shrill cry of a robotic flock. The prince tried again and again to stop Keith, but when he broke through Keith’s defenses and spilled blood across his armor, the soldier refused to stop. Their hands were just the youngest on this battlefield. They were far more powerful players that watched them strike.

 _Shifting Beams, Blazing Noon_ … on and on and on, until he called on forms that had lost their names to history. Flames moved with him, surrounding him and Shiro and locking them in a circle as their swords clashed. There was only one way this could end. They were too far gone to turn back now.

_Sun and Sky._

The fire burst inward, scorching them with suffocating heat. It claimed them inch by inch, but only Shiro screamed. The Galra’s influence had dug deep into his heart and soul, and as it burned, it felt like a part of him was dying.

The wind faltered as the fire burned away the corruption that had taken root in Shiro’s body. It was an agony, every nerve on fire and scorched by white-hot flame. Keith shook himself, bringing down his sword with all of his strength and a whispered prayer. Metal met metal, but the Galra creation couldn’t stand against a weapon forged for a goddess. Shiro’s arm shattered, the silver metal charred black and smoking as the prince fell to his knees in the mud. He choked, heaving the poison from his gut, breath coming shuddering sobs.

The storm died away into a gentle rain, drops as warm as tears. Keith kept his sword trained warily on Shiro, but when the prince didn’t try to attack, he lowered his weapon. “Shiro?” He hated the way his voice shook, too close to the edge and unsure if he was taking a step off into nothingness.

Shiro raised his head slowly, face splattered with blood and hair plastered down from the rain. He looked pale and exhausted, but his eyes were dark and human, though filled with unspeakable pain. He tried to speak, giving a single croak of pain before Keith was on his knees, slipping in the wet earth as he pulled Shiro into his arms.

“Keith.” Shiro finally managed to whisper the name, even the single word rough and broken from his raw throat. He wrapped his one arm around his love, bodies fitting together like they had been made for no other purpose. In the middle of the battle field, surrounded by destruction, two hearts beat in the same rhythm.

“You’re okay. I’m here, you’re okay.” Keith promised, dragging his fingers down Shiro’s face and wiping away the smeared blood from his lips.

“I get to wake up to your face.” Shiro tripped over the words, managing a smile that made Keith’s heart break. “That makes everything okay.”

Keith knew that he never wanted to hear Shiro so sad again.

“I’m sorry.” The prince whispered, his eyes glassy and distant. “I’m so sorry. I never meant it. I didn’t mean any of it. I hurt you. I did so many things…”

Keith knew, of course he did, but something in his chest still unwound at the desperation in Shiro’s voice. There was no closer for him to push, but he tried anyway, carefully pressing a kiss to his lover’s brow. “It’s not your fault. None of this was ever your fault.”

Shiro reached for him, tucking Keith under his chin. They were too tired to hold on as tightly as they wanted to, but they fell on top of one another like they couldn’t stand to be anywhere else. Suddenly the warmth between them shifted, as gentle now as the first rays of dawn. All Keith wanted was to make Shiro feel better. Slowly, the angry gashes across the stump of his arm mended in jagged lines, healed by Keith’s light. The scars would never fade, but his wounds wouldn’t claim Shiro today.

Around them the battle raged on. The Golden Horde was falling. The immortals cut down their opponents with terrifying force, and somewhere, the roar echoed through the night air.

“ _Pathetic_.”

A cold, cruel voice broke through their relief, and they both turned to watch Commander Sendak approach. He was a monstrous figure, twisted and corrupted by Galra magic, both inside and out. He’d lost an arm in combat, but the Druids had given him a replacement, one that glowed with an eerie light. Shiro might have been their Champion, but Sendak was the culmination of Galra supremacy.

“They lined your leash with jewels, but you’re still a mutt.”

“Sendak-” 

They never got any warning. The commander lunged. Keith shoved Shiro away, reaching up to meet his attack. His sword slammed into the Galra’s arm, and the force rocked Keith to his bones.

“Keith duck!”

Sendak laughed as his massive metal hand wrapped around Keith’s body, crackling with power until his captive screamed. Shiro lurched to his feet, trying to draw on exhausted reserves of energy and thrown off balance by his missing limb.

“Our worthless deserter and our fallen Champion.” The Commander sneered. “This is what happens when they give too much power to a whore. You were always better on your knees, pet. Maybe the Emperor will give you back to me so that I can remind you of your place.”

Keith gave a choked snarl, thrashing in Sendak’s grip. “Kill you!”

“Oh, will you?” The Galra laughed. “You’re a traitor who helped an enemy escape. You turned your back on your duty and your Kingdom. You’re a washed out failure not even worth an honorable death. I’ll make you watch as I fuck your whore bloody and then throw you to the dogs. It’s all you’ve ever been good for.”

The Scion cursed, flames licking weakly along Sendak’s metal arm.

“Put him down.” Shiro’s voice was gravel rough, but steady as he clumsily wove flickering silver magic with his left hand.

“You want a go at him first?” Sendak’s toothy smile widened. “I told you that we’re alike. Even if you try to deny it, it’s inside of you. I know what you really want, Champion, I’m the only one who could ever give it to you. The Druids gave us both a gift, don’t waste yours.”

Shiro was trembling, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Even as he stared at Sendak, his vision blurred, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. He’d been cored out and beaten, the taste of poison still lingering on the back of his tongue, but Keith was still struggling. He needed him now. It could not end like this. Shiro would not let it end like this.

“No.” Shiro snarled, taking one step closer, and then another. Thunder rumbled across the sky, ringing with ominous strength. When lightning flashed, it lingered, painting silver across Shiro’s skin, until the light started to weave across his chest, becoming clearer as he approached. They thinned into chains as light as air but stronger than any metal. “You tried to break me. You tried to take everything from me.”

Thick roped snaked across his arm, settling heavily in his hand to form a heavy scythe. It burned his palm with the Goddess’s power, for there was none more vindictive than the Moon, and She did not forgive those who hurt Hers. Holy armor folded across his chest, Her symbol almost a curse in its own right. It had failed to protect him once. It would not fail again.

“I’m not going to let you.”

The power was fickle and overwhelming, a gift from a Goddess who had long forgotten the vulnerabilities of humankind. It took everything in Shiro just to hold on, projecting a facade of strength. But that was okay. Because Keith was struggling. Shiro had bought him seconds.

That was all Keith needed.

A burst of light flared across Sendak’s hand, searing his monstrous palm and severing his thumb. Keith rolled when he hit the ground, ducking out of Sendak’s reach, and when the Commander turned, Shiro attacked him from behind.

They moved in tandem, working together with an unspoken trust. Shiro pulled back as soon as Sendak moved to defend himself as Keith took advantage, cutting deep from the front and darting away as Sendak swung his heavy, monstrous arm. Everywhere the Commander turned, the pair attacked and dodged, impossible for him to catch.

“Hold still!” The Galra snarled as Shiro and Keith cut his legs out from under him. He fell heavily and leaned on his arm, trying to keep his balance. Silver and gold blurred together, battering their enemy until they broke through his defenses. Sendak’s arm thrummed with power as he swung blindly at the Scions who danced out of the way before the bright sword and moonlit scythe struck with mirrored precision.

Sendak gurgled and arched back, both blades buried deep in his body. With one final snarling curse, the Galra slumped over in the mud.

Shiro watched his nightmare die at his feet, breathing heavily and swaying with a mind-numbing exhaustion. There was no sense of victory, just a grim sort of satisfaction that the Commander would never hurt them again. Somehow, he found his way to Keith, the two Scions leaning into each other and finding a way to keep each other standing.

They stood together for a long time as the sounds of battle died around them, not saying a word. The gentle rain washed the blood from their skin and Shiro turned his face up towards the sky, looking for the light that always guided them in the darkness. Even at her most mysterious when the Moon hid Herself among the stars, She was still there with the promise to return. She was fickle and changing in Her moods, but always followed the same predictable patterns. It helped to ease the raw and empty hold in his chest that had been scraped bare by corruption. Things were dark now, but the light would always return.

And Keith would never let him go.

Above them, the storm was fading, but the ground rumbled. Like a man riding a wave, Hunk stood in front of them on an arch of stone, Lance by his side, tired but pleased. Allura and Pidge descended from the sky, Allura’s armor splattered with blood, but her smile crisp and certain.

Shiro met each and every one of them with a steady stare, before bowing low, quietly asking for forgiveness, but by his side, Keith tensed, a protest ready on the tip of his tongue to any who denied him. Then Pidge jumped down and gave Shiro a tight squeeze, nearly pulling him off balance, and Hunk laughed, creating a throne of rock in front of Shiro’s feet.

“Come on, paladins.” Allura said gently. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

In the deep caverns of the Temple of Heaven, was a living spring. Steam rose into the air, sweetened with herbs and spices, so far underground that the water was still warm.

Keith waded through it, balancing a tray in his hands. On the other end of the springs, Shiro didn’t even stir, his eyes closed beneath a damp towel and his left arm hidden beneath the water. He grunted as Keith slipped in beside him, sloshing water around them, and Keith removed the cloth before wiping his face with a new one. Shiro indulged him only a moment, before stilling his hand with his own. Slowly, carefully, he ran his fingers through Keith’s hair, and cupped his cheek. His arm only shook a little. “Let me take care of you.”

Keith opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again with a little nod. Shiro had been tortured and controlled, if this made him feel useful, he wasn’t going to ruin it with his ego. The prince was clumsy with his left hand as he washed the last bits of mud from Keith’s hair. The Druids had taken him right after his battle with in the arena, he’d never adjusted to the loss.

The hot water soaked into knotted muscles, easing Shiro’s battered body and drawing the pain from his bones. It felt like someone had taken a knife to his insides and scrapped him bare like they were skinning an animal. The Galra had made him a monster and even though their darkness had been burned out of him, he worried that it had changed him and twisted him into some kind of monster. The damage was never going to heal, his insides now looked like his outsides.

“Shiro…”

The prince silenced him with a kiss, gentle as Keith’s lips parted early for him. Shiro settled himself against his love, their bodies slotting together with an aching familiarity.

“It’s not your fault.” Keith murmured against Shiro’s mouth. “None of this is.”

“I’m never going to hurt you again.” Shiro poured his heart into the promise and Keith sighed, tucking his face into Shiro’s neck. “I’m going to take care of you.”

“Only if you let me take care of you too. That’s how this works, okay?”

“It shouldn’t always be you.” Shiro sounded so distant that Keith tightened his grip as much as he could. If he held on hard enough, there was a chance he could make Shiro believe him. In the quiet of the spring, the rest of the world was so far away that it felt like it didn’t exist. Shiro didn’t know if that was why he felt safe enough to confess, or if exhaustion had finally taken its toll. “They chose me. Out of everyone with Her blood, I was supposed to be High Priest. I was supposed to protect us.”

Shiro’s words bled together, consonants running into the next, like he didn’t want to be heard. “You know, before this started, I wanted so badly to join the army. I thought I could make a difference. I wanted to help. But I can’t protect the people I love. I can’t even protect myself.”

His hand was heavy on Keith’s shoulder. There was a clump of dirt he missed, clinging stubbornly to the tips of his hair, and Shiro felt so stupid. He couldn’t do the simplest tasks anymore, no matter how hard he tried. For the longest time, only the Galra curse had made him halfway useful, and now Shiro didn’t know how he was going to help anyone when they had so little time. “I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of letting everyone down. I just… I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

He moved to scrub his hand across his face only to find that only the phantom sensation of one lingered, and he barked out a laugh. It was a bitter, hateful sound that sent chills up Keith’s spine. “Sorry, I’m a little short-handed right now. Goddess forgive me, I sound like a brat. I have to talk to Allura. There’s something she needs to know.”

“Shiro wait!” Keith insisted, with too much force and too much heat, trapping his partner against the smooth edge of the springs. “You can  _wait_. Just five minutes, just… You don’t have to go yet. You don’t have to do anything but be here, with me.”

Shiro wouldn’t look at him. “There’s still so much we have to do.”

“I don’t give a goddamn fuck.”

It startled a laugh out of Shiro, but he didn’t fight as Keith pulled him back down into the warm water, running his hands down the sides of Shiro’s body. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“I’m serious, Shiro.” Always hotheaded, even when Keith was trying to be gentle. “You have survived things that…, you’ve kept going. You’ve saved us all over and over again even when you were hurting. You never had a chance to heal or to rest after what happened. You kept us together even when I wanted to stab Lance in the face. You were willing to risk your life to help Pidge’s brother, you’re the one who got Hunk to open up. You got us here, you-“

His speech was cut off in the middle as Shiro kissed him, swallowing his words. Keith stiffened indignantly, no one dismissed Shiro’s importance, not even Shiro himself! But he couldn’t keep from melting into the touch, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck and letting himself relax against him.

“Shhhh.” Shiro murmured against his lips. “Enough.”

“I need you to know.” Keith flushed at the needy plea in his voice. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. I owe you so much.”

“Not for this. Not for taking you away from that place.” 

“No, Keith. For everything.” Giving up and admitting weakness ran counter to everything Shiro wanted to be. He was the heir, a man destined to protect his people against the monsters that prowled in the darkness. Admitting he was broken and needed help made him weak, but maybe in this moment, wrapped in the arms of the man he loved, it was okay.

Once the tears started, he couldn’t stop until he slumped exhausted against Keith, bleeding away the grief like the lingering remains of the poison. The soldier was uncharacteristically gentle, his fierceness tempered by tender hands that promised healing. They left the spring reluctantly before tumbling into bed and losing themselves in soft silk and linen sheets. Shiro couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in a real bed so comfortable or so large as he stretched his weary body back into the soft pillows. They were asleep in minutes, holding each other and safe, if only for a few hours.

Allura tried to give them as much time as she could, but the war wasn’t going to wait.

When she knocked on their door, Shiro greeted her with caution, opening the door slowly like he wasn’t sure how to react. Sleep ruffled and soft, there was too much honesty on his face as it clouded with disappointment before Allura could say anything. “Can he rest for a little longer?” He asked. “I don’t think he’s had the chance to…”

“I’m sorry, Shiro.” She genuinely was. This was too much to ask from any of them, and yet here they were. The responsibility had fallen to their shoulders, and even if it was at times too much to bear, the alternative would doom them all. “The Ritual of the Scions needs to be completed.”

“What?”

Of all responses, Allura had expected that the least. Shiro was so genuinely surprised, her stomach plummeted, and Keith came up behind him, cagey and suspicious, far too proprietary as he snaked an arm around Shiro’s waist.

“What are you talking about?”

Allura’s voice caught in her throat. They’d promised to remember. Even as they tore each other apart, the Kingdoms of the Sun and Moon swore to uphold their most venerable ritual. Since the very beginning, the Sun and Moon stood against the Darkness. As punishment for their cruelty, their bloodlines were sacrificed to the task, and the Great Goddess imprisoned. Surely their people couldn’t have forgotten?

She didn’t want to be the one who gave them the news. Biting her lip, Allura stepped back into the hallway. “Please join us in the war room as soon as you can.” She left the two to get ready as the young men reluctantly dressed, Keith helping to tie to sash around Shiro’s waist. The moment they left their room, they found themselves attacked.

“Shiro!” Pidge threw herself at Shiro, tucking herself into his side and refusing to let go. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Lance wrapped himself around them both and Hunk yanked Keith in too, lifting everyone into his arms and squeezing them until the whole group squeaked in protest. Shiro’s raw heart banged against his chest, overwhelmed. His friends, his  _family_ , had worried so much about him and for the first time since he’d been taken from the Moon Kingdom in chains, he felt like he was home. Allura hated to interrupt them, but she cleared her throat and her Paladins took their places around the table, everyone clustering close to each other.

“We need to open the Gates of Heaven.” She said simply. “The Darkness can’t stand against the light, but it’s not enough to stop it.”

“The Ritual of the Scions.” Shiro leaned in with a frown. “You mentioned it, what exactly do we have to do?”

Regret washed through the princess as she put her hands on the table, head bowed. So much had been lost and they didn’t even remember their duty anymore. “When the Sun and Moon were exiled, their punishment was borne by their blood to keep back the Darkness and maintain the balance. The Scions are their blood. When we open the Gates of Heaven, the two of you must take your place in the sky for a thousand years of exile like the Scions of old.”

“What-”

“No! Not again! You can’t ask anymore from us.” Keith spat. Surprise still lingered on his features, but it gave way to anger all too quickly. “How long have you been hiding this from us!? How can you ask us something like that!”

“It wasn’t my intention to deceive you. This responsibility has never been a secret. This is the Scions’ most sacred duty.” Allura said in a voice of measured calm, for though she was blameless, she could not lessen the impact of her news. A thousand years meant nothing in the life of an immortal, but she’d seen how the previous Scions suffered with their decision, weighed down by the promise of eternity that could destroy a mind not born for it. She had no way of knowing what became of them after their sacrifice, but their union had been doomed from the start. “But there is no other way to lock the Darkness away.”

“And the Emperor is coming.” It was the first time Shiro spoke since the revelation, his tone steady and expression stern, but Keith could see where the lines on his face deepened, and the shadows that fell over his eyes. The group turned to him as one. “We were supposed to set the path for him, claim the Temple for him to rule, but he marches on with tens of thousands. He plans on tearing down Heaven.”

Keith looked from one shocked face to the next and quietly cursed. How could they have been so naive? How could they have thought this would be easy in any way?

“The things I saw. There was so much. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what isn’t, but he’s so powerful. He’s so incredibly powerful.”

“I don’t care, I just got you back!” Keith slammed his hands on the table. “I’ve lost him too many times, I’m not doing it again. No one’s going to take him away.”

“Your story isn’t your own.” Allura said quietly, pity in her eyes. “The Sun and Moon are destined to chase each other and never catch each other. They loved each other once, but their conflict has been passed down to every generation. It’s not your fault.” It didn’t make it any easier. Allura had seen too many Scions torn apart by the conflict of the goddesses, the same curse taking them all in the end. They were drawn to each other, the lingering effects of a cosmic love, but were always torn apart. It broke her heart every time.

“I’m  _not_  losing him!” Keith refused to listen, storming from the table as the other Paladins watched in stunned silence.

Allura sighed. “I’m so sorry.” She murmured to Shiro who stood to follow Keith, but hesitated.

“The Emperor, he…I’ve seen the army. You fought the advanced guard, the main force will be here soon and there’s thousands of warriors and, and the monsters.” Shiro swallowed hard, remembering the sweet, seductive promise of the Galra’s venom. “The Druids call them Robeasts, they’re experiments twisted into horrors. I was almost one of them.” He looked towards the empty doorway where Keith had disappeared. “I’ll go talk to him, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

 

* * *

 

Zarkon looked out over his gathered troops, lips curled into a fanged smile. After so many years of planning and waiting, the time had come to strike. The Gates would fall before him and he would march his troops into Heaven, bringing Darkness to reign for eternity.

Three creatures knelt before him, hulking and mutated beyond recognition. His beautiful Robeasts. He trailed his fingers along the slavering maw of a creature curled around the camp like a dragon made of shadow. Beside it, a living mass of earth filled with rot and decay. Finally, the face of his son, glassy eyed and half-eaten by death and corruption. Darkness animated the corpse like a puppet and years of his Druids’ experimentation had finally allowed Lotor to fulfill his purpose.

An Earth God, an Immortal, and a mortal filled with the blood of slaughtered Scions of the Sun. Only two pieces missing before his dark paladins would open the Gate.

“They have stolen our Moon Scion from us, but we will bring him back.” He hissed, caressing his bony fingers down the side of Lotor’s ruined face. “Along with Princess Allura. Our Darkness will fill them both and Heaven will be ours!”

Around him, the soldiers lifted their weapons and cheered as the monsters roared their challenge at the mountains. 

The Galra were coming.


	24. Chapter 24

“No. No way. I’m not doing it. Save your breath, it’s never going to happen.” Keith fumed, stalking across the Temple of Heaven and into the gardens at its heart.

“Keith-” Shiro trailed after him, trying gently to bring him back, but the soldier wrenched away from Shiro’s touch.

“I said _no,_ aren’t any of you listening? I have lost you over and over again, I’m not doing it again. Period. I’m not having this discussion.”

“Just talk to me.” The prince asked, trying to corral Keith’s anger. “We can find another way, okay? You’re not going to lose me.”

Keith whirled on him, rage giving way to wordless, overwhelming anguish. “But that’s what they’re doing, don’t you see?” Tears streaked down his face and his voice broke, but everything hurt too much to care. He was one open wound, every private fear and weakness ripped open and put on display for the whole world to see and there was no way to hide it. “We’re cursed and the only way to save the world is to give up everything. What the fuck as this world ever done for either of us, Shiro!? Why do  _ we _ have to keep hurting, we didn’t choose this!”

“Shhhh.” Shiro coaxed him down and carefully rubbed his hand down Keith’s arm as the younger man shivered, chest heaving and choking on his pain. “Breathe, Keith. We’re going to be okay.”

With a sob, Keith went limp against him and Shiro leaned into support his weight. The soldier buried his face in the prince’s chest, sounding so young and afraid. “I love you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

He was so tired. He’d fought through their journey, lost in a maelstrom of doubt and uncertainty, but he’d clawed his way through in the end. Now, it seemed like it was all for naught, but he still couldn’t imagine a life without Shiro. After trying to earn his right to exist for long, Keith had found someone who accepted him unconditionally, even at his worst, even when his best had turned out to be a sham.  

Shiro cupped his chin, gently coaxing him to look up, but Keith stubbornly refused. Shiro tried again, always patient when Keith needed him to be, but unafraid to push harder when it was better for them both. Keith sighed into his touch, closing his eyes as his lover brushed away his tears. Then Shiro kissed the tip of his nose, and the swell of his lip.

“I have so many messed up, jumbled memories, but all the ones with you don’t hurt. All the ones with you feel right,” Shiro admitted softly. Keith tried to scowl, wanted to tell him now was neither the time or place, but Shiro was comfortable and steady, as he rubbed circles into Keith’s back. “Even the ones that don’t make sense. You weren’t at the monastery when the priests were teaching calligraphy.”

Keith snorted despite himself, face pressed into Shiro’s robe. “No, but I know their pain. You write worse than a toddler.”

“Hey, there were thirteen lines in that one character.”

“Eighteen.”

Shiro snorted, and Keith could smile again, just a little. It was enough. Shiro traced the line of his mouth, and Keith pressed a kiss against his thumb, giving in to his gentle exploration. “I can’t lose you, Keith. I don’t know how to go on without you and I don’t wanna learn. So we can’t give up fighting now because after this, we’re going home.”

The soldier swiped angrily at his eyes, then turned into Shiro to wrap his arms around his shoulders, stubbornly pulling him closer. “I’m sorry I stormed out.” It was bratty and childish, and he always hated when his anger got a hold of him like that. He would have to apologize to Allura, too. “But I’m not going to let you go.”

“Then we find another way.” Shiro said like it was simple, like they could rewrite the rules of magic and creation simply because they believed they could. As if love could overcome the Darkness itself. Goddess help him, in that moment, Keith wanted to believe it was true.

“You heard with Allura said, it’s the Scion’s duty. We’re just living out someone else’s love story.”

“And I’m telling you that we’re making this our story.” Shiro leaned down just a little to rest his forehead against Keith, feeling the warmth from the other man against his skin and Shiro wished he was whole again so he could wrap his arms around him. “We fight and we find another way. We have to at least try.”

He was so sincere that Keith’s heart banged against his chest, dangerously hopeful. It was impossible and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that. But Shiro hadn’t given up and as long as he was holding on, then Keith wasn’t going to let go. “I love you.”

It felt like sparks shot down Shiro’s spine when their lips met, kissing each other with the quiet desperation of two men who might not live through tomorrow. Keith tipped his head back, letting Shiro drag wet, open mouthed kisses across his pulse, groaning at the faint touch of teeth scraping against the junction of his neck and his shoulder. Shiro was awkward as he tried to relearn how to touch with only one arm, slipping Keith’s robe open and letting it slide down his arm.

“I love you.” Shiro murmured like a prayer, breath hot against Keith’s skin as goosebumps raced across it. “I have loved you since you were the one good thing I found when I was in hell. I have loved you when I couldn’t even remember your name, just the feel of your heartbeat next to mine. I have loved you more with every footstep across your kingdom and every day that passed. I love you when you help me heal and when you’re fierce, I sleep better when you’re in my arms. My Goddess is always in my heart, but this is  _our_ love story.”

Keith couldn’t bring Shiro closer but he tried, drowning in his warmth until they tumbled to the ground, breathless and eager. Keith’s hair fanned around him, framing his head in a dark halo, and his robe came undone, spilling across his skin in the most delectable tease. Shiro had always thought he was beautiful, but just then, Keith looked divine. Keith’s smile was a wicked promise, and the weight of his hands a solemn oath, and Shiro flushed under the heat of his stare.

“You can have me. All of me. Such that it is,” Shiro promised softly. He wanted to touch, he wanted to feel. There was so much Shiro wanted to take, but they were running out of time, and he barely knew how to move. His balance was unsure, his reactions too slow, and he hated feeling so ashamed when he knew he should know better. “I want…”

Keith touched his bicep, and Shiro shuddered, too aware of how close his fingers reached, of how much Keith would see. “Does it hurt?”

The answers caught in his throat, and he shook his head. Shiro didn’t know which was the right one. It hurt but it didn’t. Keith’s spell had eased the worst of the damage, but phantom sensations still lingered with a distant, dull ache that never seemed like enough to matter. The truth was harder to admit. “I don’t want you to touch it.”

He spoke in a hush, heart hammering in his chest. Shiro hadn’t known how much he considered his prosthetic a part of himself until it was gone. He could never remove it. Time softened resignation. It may have been a curse, it may have almost killed him, but it made so much easier that he took for granted.

Keith moved away without hesitation, and Shiro’s ribs felt too tight, gratitude and relief so thick he could taste it. Keith wouldn’t stop touching him, eager fingers running down his chest, mapping out his ribs. Across his belly and up his flank. Down along the curve of his spine, like he could find all the places that made Shiro weak. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to make you feel good again.” Shiro pleaded, eyes fallen shut and lips parted in a drunken sigh. “I never want to stop.”

“Then take me to bed.” Keith kissed him again, stealing the air from his lungs with reckless abandon, making his lover moan for him, making Shiro say his name just the way he liked it. “Because I want all of you. And if you’ll let me, I’ll take it.”

“It’s yours.” Shiro pleaded. It was an easy promise to make. Keith already had his heart and his sword. The rest just fell into place. Keith drew him in again, kissing him hard on the mouth, until Shiro’s nerves tingled with heat. Then he was being pulled up, on unsteady legs, but Keith was on him before he could even sway.They raced through the temple, pushing against each other whenever they had the chance, kissing and touching, playing like they had all the time in the world. Knowing that they might not live past tomorrow.

The rooms were lush, fit for a Celestial ready to sleep away a century or two. Rich silks and fine white linens piled across the massive bed almost lost under soft pillows. Keith spilled Shiro across it, posing him like a work of art on some scroll hung in the Emperor’s private collection, skin flushed red against the pale scars, his clothes draped coyly over his body that showed the long line of his thighs and the tight muscles of his stomach. When he dragged his fingers down Shiro’s chest, they almost seemed to glow, silver and gold sparks of light. Shiro licked his lips, and Keith growled low in his throat like an animal.

He almost wished there was a painting of this moment, something permanent to prove that they loved each other in case they ended with tomorrow.

The air was cool and thin enough to make Shiro breathe just a little harder than normal, or maybe it was the was the way Keith looked at him with such ferocity. He watched Keith’s throat working hard to swallow, enjoying the intensity of the heat he sparked behind those dark eyes.

It was a heat that could consume the whole world and it was just for him.

He fumbled eagerly for the sash of his robe and hissed in frustration at clumsy fingers that couldn’t even loosen the knot. Shiro cursed at himself under his breath before Keith wrapped his hands around his own, deftly untying the belted silk and slipping it free. “I’m sorry.” Shiro’s first instinct was to apologize for his failure, but Keith only smiled.

“You’re so beautiful.” He breathed, wrapping a hand around Shiro’s cock and stroking just enough that the prince’s head tipped back against the pillows. Shiro was heavy and thick in his hand, almost velvet soft, but clear drops of precum glistened at the reddened tip. He swiped his thumb across it, slick and wet, before licking it clean. Shiro couldn’t look away.

“Let me be your right hand. We’ve always been better as a team.”

“I missed you,” Shiro confessed, a terrible, dirty secret after everything he’d been put through, but even at his worse, he’d been fixated on Keith, hopelessly bewitched when he knew nothing else. Each word was a promise he wrote on Keith’s lips, touching him, grinding against him, and Shiro reveled in the feel of his skin, the familiar weight of him pressing him down. “I missed you so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I don’t want to let go.”

He was giddy with it, aching with want and obscenely exposed. When Keith pulled away, Shiro groaned, immediately trying to draw him back in.

“You’re so much,” Keith hissed, the bite in his tone making Shiro shiver almost as much as the way he gripped his cock, squeezing Shiro only to soothe him with his palm. It was just enough to whet his hunger, enough to make him crave more, but when he tried to demand more, Keith pulled away. He walked his fingers between Shiro’s legs, making the prince strain for more, his robe bunched beneath him as Shiro swallowed down a snarl that sounded too much like Keith’s name. “I want so much from you, Shiro.”

“Keith!”

He liked the way Shiro’s mouth moved when he said his name, like how he had to swallow twice before he could find his voice. He knelt between Shiro’s legs, spreading his thighs and bending to kiss the tender skin between them. He laving his tongue along Shiro’s thick shaft, taking it in deep and letting it fill out his cheeks. Shiro was so eager, so responsive, moaning long and low whenever Keith sucked him in. It was so easy to get him wet, and when Shiro was panting, sweat beaded across his brow, a dark blush suffused across his cheeks, Keith pulled back. Those pretty brown eyes were so hungry.

He pressed a kiss to Shiro’s belly, felt it jump beneath his lips before slowly, delicately brushing smooth silk between Shiro’s legs. He felt more than heard the way Shiro’s breath hitched, tasting the sweat off his skin as he dragged the cloth across Shiro’s cock.

“Keith!” Sharper this time, more desperate, his fingers curled into the bed sheets, and for a moment, he looked at a loss. Keith leaned up, pressed a kiss between his ribs, before guiding his hand into his hair. He wouldn’t let go until Shiro pulled.

“Does it feel good?” He asked. Shiro was struggling to keep up, his gaze distant, lips swollen pink, but the soldier was careful, even as his self-control strained for release. He waited, waited until Shiro threw his head back in a husky groan, almost drunk on want when he whispered, “More.”

Keith ghosted smooth silk along the inside of Shiro’s thighs, letting it caress his sack before moving his shaft. He stroked it across Shiro’s stomach, over the deep lines of his pecs before kissing his chest. Shiro squirmed, open-mouthed and hot. He was doing so good. Until Keith pulled the scarf back and roped it around his leaking cock, and he  _ whined. _

The silk was like cold liquid as it pooled between Shiro’s legs and dragged down his cock with an agonizing barely-there friction. His hips stuttered, thrusting against nothing as he quietly pleaded for more. Precum soaked through the end of the cloth as Keith refused to relent, teasing him with its feather-light touches and batting away Shiro’s hand every time he tried to tighten its grip.

“Please.” Shiro breathed, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Please what? You have to ask me if you want something.” Keith crooned smugly.

“Don’t stop!” He arched back against the bed as Keith chuckled, bending to swirling his tongue over the head of Shiro’s cock through the damp silk. Keith was rewarded with a choked groan as he tightened his hand around Shiro, finally giving him enough friction to thrust against.

“Slowly, not too fast.” He teased as Shiro huffed indignantly. “I want this to last.”

“Then you’d better worry about yourself.” The prince growled, jerking the silk free and managing to loop it around Keith’s neck with one hand. Shiro yanked his startled partner down on the makeshift leash, kissing him until Keith panted into his mouth.

“Even when they were in my head, all I could think of was you. How much I wanted you, how I  _needed_ to get my hands on your body, feel you, make you say my name. I had to make you mine.” Shiro wrapped his legs around Keith’s middle, rolling them over so suddenly that Keith yelped and flailed. He kept Keith pinned, supporting himself on one hand as he ground down against him until Keith’s body trembled.

“I am yours.” Keith managed to groan, rutting against Shiro’s hip. The Prince pulled himself back to his knees, trying to figure out his balance. “Allura left me some salve to help with my arm. I need your help. Hand it to me and then I want you on your belly.” He leaned in closer so he could nuzzle against Keith’s neck. “Hold yourself open for me.”

Strong arms wrapped around Shiro’s shoulders, pulling him in, and he couldn’t help but sag against Keith, greedy for the comfort that was so freely given. Keith brought him peace the prince wasn’t sure he deserved, soothing the parts of him that were tattered and torn. “Are you sure about this?” Keith’s voice was husky with want, bound by only the faintest threads of control, but he held on as stubbornly as he did to Shiro. His palm settled between his lover’s shoulder blades, just pressing into the strong lines of muscle. “I need you to be sure.”

Shiro stole a kiss, holding onto Keith a little too tightly. Just like he’d done from the start. “About you? Always. If it doesn’t work…”

Embarrassment softened his tone, a nameless shame building in the center of his gut, but Keith silenced him with his mouth, chaste when nothing else about them was, and Shiro shuddered in relief. “It will. You always make me feel good.”

His vicious, kind hearted guardian. His best friend. His Sun. Shiro owed him so much that he could never repay, but he would never stop trying. Keith was gentle as he worked, massaging the salve into Shiro’s skin, and Shiro sighed, letting out the tension that clung so tightly to his shoulders. When Keith fell back on the sheets, eyes glassy with anticipation, Shiro knew he wanted to devour him.

It didn’t help that Keith was spread out like a feast. He was trim, a body of a young man who had spent his life training for war. He’d favored agility over brute strength, a fact written into the way his tight muscles moved beneath his skin. A few faint scars lined his body, remnants of training accidents and fights when Keith’s mouth or his pride had gotten him into more trouble than he could handle. He ran his hands down the dip of his spine as Shiro watched, lifting his hips just a little as he spread himself, putting everything on shameless display.

Shiro swallowed hard as he dragged one slick finger against him, earning a breathy moan as he teased against the cleft. He pressed against the tight entrance, slowly easing Keith with a single finger. Keith’s hands tightened and left white marks against his ass, but he didn’t let go, wiggling back eagerly for more. It was breathtakingly vulnerable, Keith trusting Shiro’s hand completely and the prince wanted to give him everything.

He leaned over to press a kiss to Keith’s shoulder blade as he worked his finger deeper, the slow drag working him open, undeniable but insistent. It wasn’t enough to fill him and Keith muttered a soft curse, face buried in the pillows as he demanded more. Shiro rumbled a laugh.

“You’re so eager.”

“You fucking think?” Keith hissed. “Come  _ on _ Shiro, I need you. I’ve waited too long.”

“You’re the one who wanted to do this right. I’m going to take my time.” Shiro promised, slipping another finger inside of Keith’s tight heat, trying to coax him to relax.

“You stubborn piece-a…” The words were already forgotten. A wave of sensation coursed through Keith, rippling like a wave beneath his skin. He stilled beneath Shiro’s hand, before swaying, ever so slightly, trying to get him deeper. He breathed in sharply, choking around the sounds of his lover’s name, and somewhere above him Shiro was laughing.

“I wish you could see yourself.” The words were warm against Keith’s skin, smooth like the silk beneath his knees. He could feel Shiro moving inside him, spreading him around his fingers until he was slick and open for him, feeling so good he was panting for air. “You look so good like this, Keith. I can’t believe I get to have you. I want you so badly.”

“Then do it,” he snapped, heat lost under a breathy moan. Keith’s cock was hard between his thighs, achingly stiff, and he wanted Shiro to touch him there to, to touch every part of him. “Just Goddess give it to me, Shiro or I swear. Stop playing just more, please just do…”

Shiro pulled out, and Keith let out an embarrassingly needy noise, his cheek pressed into the bed, eyes half-lidded as Shiro weight grew insistent on top of him. He felt the way Shiro moved, settling into place, felt the length of his cock along his thighs, before Shiro took it in hand, guiding it against his rim, thick head just kissing his entrance. “Keith, help me,” It was a strangled, desperate request that left Keith shivering with pride. “Show me how you want me.”

Keith snarled, biting into his pillow, but he reached behind him, reached between Shiro’s legs. He could feel the heat of his lover’s stare on him, watching how he lead him in, watching how he arched his back and spread his thighs, anything to get closer to his cock, anything until he could feel Shiro sinking, spreading him open on his length, until all he could think about was the stretch, the heaviness in his belly, until all he could do was moan.

He tried to raise his hips even higher, stretching out across the bed as he pushed back against Shiro. He thrust back to take him deep, filling him completely as Shiro knelt behind him. The prince panted for air and curled around Keith’s back, his hand braced against the bed to keep his balance.

It was easy to find a rhythm, the natural pull and thrust that dragged slow and relentless pleasure from them both. Their bodies had been trained to work together and anticipate each other, subtly shifting in time to move in tandem. Keith cried out into the mattress as Shiro’s weight bore down on him, drops of sweat peppering his back and Shiro’s breath hot against his spine.

Keith rode back against Shiro, his own neglected cock rutting uselessly against the silks. He tried to find some friction as he drooled against the sheets, but there was no relief as Shiro tortured him so sweetly, building him towards that edge and then pulling back before he could find that release until he snarled in wordless frustration.

Shiro just laughed breathlessly at him.

“Wait.” Keith muttered and Shiro froze immediately.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just, I want to see you.” Keith pulled himself off and thrashed awkwardly as he tried to turn himself around in a flurry of legs and elbows. He stopped to smile up at Shiro, breathing hard and reaching out to curl his hand around the back of the prince’s neck to pull him into a kiss. “I wanted to see you.”

“I’m right here.”

“Not good enough.” Keith pulled him down into the bed, tumbling together and kissing Shiro until he lost any ability to protest. He wanted to remember every single tiny detail, the way Shiro’s eyes were unfocused and blown dark, and the slight gleam of sweat along the top of his lip. The red flush across his chest. The faint tremble of his hand. They could lose everything in an instant, but this memory was going to last. He’d make sure of it.

He straddled Shiro’s hips, grinding back against the prince’s cock before grasping the base and easing it back inside.

“Keith.”

Shiro begged so sweetly, expression twisted like he was in pain, but the sounds he made couldn’t be mistaken for anything in else. Keith loved the way he writhed under him, struggling so hard to keep steady, but he couldn’t stop trembling with it. Keith rolled his hips, spurring Shiro on like he could fuck every choked whimper out of him, make him cry out, make him want.

“Look at me,” he ordered, gentle but firm as he bore down on his lover. Shiro filled him up so good. He could feel him dragging through his body, carving him open with every thrust, and Shiro sobbed, shaking his head, lips parted so enticingly. Keith traced his fingers over them, pressing just the tips in and his lover sucked them down, greedy for more as Keith took him in deeper. “Look at me, Shiro. Watch me. Please look at me.”

He felt like he was going to split apart, aching around the weight that pressed against his belly. He took Shiro down again and again, impaling himself open on his heavy cock, feeling it drag through his fucked out cunt, and Shiro never took his eyes off him, not even once. Keith pulled his fingers out, wiping a trail of spit across his partner’s lips before coaxing him into a filthy kiss, open-mouthed and desperate, and Shiro swore into his skin. He dragged Keith down, holding on too tightly, a frantic mewl caught in his throat, and Keith kissed it away, kissed him until he was all Shiro could feel, until his nerves burned with it and Keith ached with need, fucking Shiro in frantic, desperate thrusts, rhythm more erratic by the second. 

“Keith! Nnng, Keith! I’m gonna, please I’m gonna-”

“Inside me.” It was an order as much as a plea, his thighs trembling with effort, spread as wide as they’d go and shameless for more. “I want you inside me.”

Shiro curled his hand around Keith’s hip, digging into his flesh and leaving red crescents as his nails bit through the skin. He couldn’t resist, Keith’s body squeezed down around him and the building pressure finally broke. With a mangled cry, he spilled deep inside his lover, cum dribbling free and dripping down his cock as Keith slowed his frantic pace.

With a smile and his hand tangled through Shiro’s hair, Keith held the prince’s gaze captive as he rode Shiro through his orgasm. Fevered, glassy eyes locked with his and Keith kissed him until the friction became too much and Shiro groaned as overstimulated nerves shot pain and pleasure through his body.

“Keith.” Shiro whispered as the soldier lifted his hips to pull free, thighs slick and blotchy red from exertion.

“Come on.” Keith took Shiro’s shaking hand and wrapped it around himself and fucking into the tight ring of their fingers. It only took a few quick stripes before he shot across Shiro’s stomach, tracing the head of his cock against the mess in his partner’s skin. He groaned, letting his head drop and slumped against Shiro.

They lay tangled together, breathing hard, enjoying the lingering pleasure and sweet exhaustion that settled over them. It took too long before Shiro moved, carefully cleaning up their mess, but Keith wouldn’t let him go far. Shiro touched him with such reverence that it left Keith humbled, the adoration in his eyes quietly overwhelming. He cupped Keith’s cheek, gently brushing across the curve of his jaw, and Keith had to look away.

“Keith, what’s…” Shiro sounded so unsure. In that moment Keith could have kicked himself, but his heart hammered in his chest, and he couldn’t bear to look at him.

“Every time I’m with you, it feels like we’re saying goodbye.”

Shiro froze, and guilt twisted in the back of Keith’s throat, copper and acrid as it spilled over his tongue. Then Shiro was holding him, tucking him under his chin, and a strangled sob echoed through his chest. It was a long time before either of them spoke again.

“Not after tomorrow.”

They had one desperate promise. They could hide behind these gauzy curtains and ignore the war that raged on their doorstep and the sacred duty that threatened to tear them apart. Keith could pretend that Shiro was going to make good on those dreams they’d shared together, of going back to the Moon Kingdom and seeing his homeland. Of finding a way to build a home and a life together. To hold on.

They would find a way to make it.

There was still strategy to plan and weapons to sharpen. The Paladins were running out of time and would get no sleep that evening, but they came together for one last dinner together.

Hunk brought life to the Temple that Allura hadn’t seen since the other Celestials walked the Earth. Beautiful, fragile vines with subtle strength curled around the dining room. Ancient trees sprouted along the walls in a manner of seconds. Hunk brought them fruits from his homeland, and a sprig of white flowers bloomed by Shiro’s chair. They were the first he’d seen of his beloved Kingdom since he’d been taken. They might be the last he would ever see. As his shoulders trembled and ribs constricted, Keith pulled him in, and no one said anything when his eyes came away damp.

Allura dotted the ceiling with the stolen light of stars, mimicking the night sky just for them. She made her comets dance from one end of the hall to the other, bringing them closer than any of them had ever been to the Heavens, and when she was done, Pidge chased away her makeshift night, bringing fireworks that were bright enough to challenge the sun. Allura laughed, delighted and scared like she hadn’t been in a long time, but also hopeful. So very hopeful.

They could not lose.

They had no other choice.

 

* * *

 

Keith stood at the top of the world.

This time the cold air could not hurt him, and the sky reached down for him. An army marched across the blanket of endless white snow, and the mountains trembled with every step the Golden Horde took. The Sun’s light spilled across the sky, but the Moon seemed to refuse to leave, like both knew the significance of the oncoming battle and wanted to witness its outcome.

Keith stood against a forced that used to define how he saw his entire world, the pinnacle of all he strove to be. It took him his lifetime to see how far it had been corrupted, and now he would purge the disease that poisoned his home. He would stop it before it could claim any more. And he wasn’t alone.

Shiro was a warm presence at his side and his friends surrounded him. No, his family. Somewhere along the way on a journey of a thousand miles, between fighting monsters, demons, and heartbreak, he had found a place where he finally belonged.

Tens of thousands of soldiers massed in the valley below their mountain, golden armor glinting in the sun. He’d been one of them, blindly following orders in the hopes of rising through the ranks and all too eager to be sent to the front. An unnatural darkness hung over the troops like a fog and Keith’s eyes narrowed as if he could see their target somewhere lost among the warriors.

“Everybody ready?” Shiro asked as power wrapped around his missing arm, forming an ethereal hand made of moonlight and steel that ended in the familiar crescent curve of his scythe. They all nodded together, hands tightening on weapons and holding their breath. “Hunk, you’re up!”

The Earth god stepped forward and took a breath before he stomped hard enough that the mountain itself trembled. He shouted his challenge at the sky at the Golden Horde and the Darkness itself, dancing until the earth danced with him. With a groan, the side of the mountain gave way in a landslide, roaring down to bury the front lines of the soldiers.

“Come on!” Lance whooped as he lept on a rolling boulder and Hunk laughed, jumping on one of his own. They hurtled down the mountain side, surfing the rockslide like they were back home in the islands and racing each other in the waves.

“You’re too slow.” The dragon teased, shooting ahead. He over calculated his balance and wobbled with an ungainly shriek as Hunk overtook him with a rumble of laughter.

“And you’re going to fall on your face, dude!”

“ _Rude!_ ”

Below them, the soldiers panicked, trying to flee backwards, but found themselves cut off as opened a door to the Spirit World, leading Shiro and Keith behind the front lines with weapons drawn and ready.

And with them came a burst of fire.

Keith dragged the heat through the intangible mists and into the Earthly realm. The soldiers fast and wise enough to fall to prayer in the Golden Empress’s name did not perish immediately until Shiro cut them down with a skillful twist of his scythe. Allura was like a ghost, stepping between the worlds like fading mist. She struck at the heart of the army, tearing through their ranks to assassinate their highest ranking generals. She was gone before their bodies hit the ground, across the battlefield with no hope of catching her. Dark magic swirled overhead, thick purple clouds rising into the air and threatening to block out both Sun and Moon.

“Hey buddy, how about a storm!?”

Lance’s voice carried across the sky, and Shiro stopped in time just to catch his smile, wicked and daring and not at all human. Shiro froze, doubt dancing on the fringes of his consciousness, but the ground was dancing for them now. He had to dance with it. He turned his focus to the heavens, and everything surged.

Thick storm clouds crackled with power, glowing with moonlight that felt too near. Thunder and lightning cut through the sounds of battle, and the first drops of rain started to fall. Then they immediately stopped.

Because a dragon roared.

Lance rose into the air, a long, serpentine figure with scales that glittered like the brightest of pearls, and water bent to the will of its master. Suddenly raindrops were needles, destroying the army from above with ruthless precision, and the mountains danced with the promise of victory.

More and more soldiers came, picking each other through the snow, trying to surround the fighters. The Paladins were terribly outnumbered, and flanked from every side, but they would not let themselves get caught.

Keith pulled fire from his soul, crafting it with every strike and blow. It followed at his heels, surging up like a wall before crashing down on his enemies and sending them scattering. How many still believed in the Golden Empress of the Sun? How many took her and all she was for granted? Now they saw Her true power wielded in the hands of Her Scion, and they ran in terror.

“You okay?” Shiro called, closing the distance between them and Keith shouted an affirmative. Overhead, Lance curled against the sky, raining death down on the army while Hunk called up great gouts of earth to send them flying.

“There’s too many of them!” Keith yelled, twisting to avoid a heavy axe that came too close to cleaving him in half. “We can’t take them all.”

“We have to hold them somehow.” They moved together, attacking and defending, switching places seamlessly as battle raged around them. Shiro shouted prayers, magic coalescing around every word and bursting forth in a gale that whipped Keith’s flames into a frenzy. The cyclones sucked the fire up to the sky, cutting burning swaths through the golden warriors and leaving the earth scorched in their wakes.

As many as they cut down, a thousand more rushed to take their place. The Golden Horde was the most powerful and largest military in all the world, their soldiers skilled and disciplined. Magic could slow them down, but brute force would win in the end. Already, Shiro could feel the hint of exhaustion as his magic ran ragged, spells frayed at the edges. They couldn’t stop now, but how could they cut the heart out of the Galra if they couldn’t even reach Zarkon before being overwhelmed.

“LOOK OUT BELOW!” Pidge bellowed at the top of her lungs as a huge clang reverberated from the top of the mountain. Like a stream of molten silver, mechanical soldiers poured from the temple, falling on the Golden Horde like a tidal wave. Pidge whooped, pumping her fist as she clung to the shoulders of one metal soldier. “I GOT THEM WORKING AGAIN!”

Beside Shiro, Keith gasped, surprise echoing through his bones. Almost as one, the Horde turned to face their new assailants. And to succumb to their swords. Metal struck metal, the sound swallowed by cries of shock and defeat, and the snow ran with spilled crimson, and as the Sun rose, the tide of battle shifted. They beat the invaders back, and large, thick stone walls rose around the Temple, shielding it from sight.

_ They would win, they were going to win! _ Keith’s arms ached, his fingers numb and unfeeling, sick with magic that was too familiar and overwhelmingly alien all at once, but he couldn’t stop smiling. The Golden Horde would succumb. They were going to go home.

Then a horn echoed through the mountains. A chill raced up Keith’s spine.

“Hunk, what’re you doing?!” Pidge yelled from atop her perch as the ground trembled and quaked.

“It’s not me!”

With every passing second, the skies darkened, and the armies of the Sun parted. A procession parted the soldiers, lead by a pair of monstrous horses, sixteen hands high and bound in armor of black and gold. At first it seemed they brought the night with them, swirling around their feet, but without the glow of stars of the Moon’s ethereal touch, it was only an endless abyss. A procession of hooded creatures walked alongside them. The Emperor’s Druids wore mangled birds with dead eyes hung along their feathered cloaks. They were more deadly than the soldiers that marched with them.

In the center of it all, riding a twisted creature with scoured scales and wild eyes, was the False Emperor, the Darkness given flesh. Zarkon.

And one look at the dragon who bore him made Allura feel faint.

“Nagari.” The word torn from her throat in horror. There was little of the dragon she’d known and loved in the beast that served as the Emperor’s mount. She barely had any form at all, edges misting off into darkness like she was made from a shadow itself. Her eyes blazed yellow, the few scales that remained along her snout rotted and cracked as dark veins of violet light throbbed within her like a heartbeat.

Tears sprang to Allura’s eyes and she covered her mouth with her hands, unsure if she was going to scream in rage and pain, or if she was going to be sick. Nagari had fallen, but the corruption had not let her die. It had eaten away at her like a parasite until she was hollow, an unnatural and twisted thing thanks to a thousand years at the Druids’ hands. Panic welled in the Princess’s chest as the dragon was joined by two others.

The Earth god had once been beautiful, the cheeriest soul Allura had ever known. She had been tiny, but powerful enough to raise mountains and danced with a grace only the divine could master. The creature at Nagari’s side wasn’t anything like Taja, it was a brute, slow-witted and hulking. It’s entire body seemed to be made of stone, though the rock itself oozed into black around its feet like pollution. To the dragon’s right was a man, but even he had been twisted by years of experimentation and vile magics. A corpse looked back at her, face pulled perpetually into a grin as half of Lotor’s cheek was missing, his teeth and bone clear through the hole. The rot had almost consumed him, but the Druids’ magic kept the body moving even if the spirit had died ages passed.

“What have you done to them?” Her voice shook and she tore her gaze away from the monsters to Zarkon, almost wishing that she hadn’t. The Emperor was still in a human form, but barely, as if his chosen corporeal body was coming unsewn around the edges. The Darkness had eaten through the flesh after so many years, corrupting the mortal body into nothing Allura could put a name to. She felt if she met the sheer, unfathomable Darkness in Zarkon’s eyes, it might drown her completely.

“My Paladins.” The words hissed around a thick, rotted tongue. “It took many years to get them right. Three of the creatures I need to open the Gates and finally spread through Heaven itself. My Earth god, Immortal, and of course, you remember my son?” Zarkon reached out to caress the ruined side of Lotor’s face who turned into the touch like an animal seeking affection. “I haven’t forgiven you for destroying him, it took years to rebuild after what you did. Thankfully, my Druids were able to keep his body in relatively one piece. He’s consumed enough of the royal Sun bloodline that he is a better Scion than yours.”

Shiro moved reflexively forward, like he could shield Keith from the Emperor’s gaze, but all he did was win Zarkon’s attention. “You were supposed to be one of my Paladins, little prince.” He laughed wetly. “It’s still a part of you. If you and Princess Allura give yourselves to me, then I will let the rest of your pathetic band live. It’s a generous offer.”

The corruption had been burned from Shiro’s body. All of it. Shiro was free. Yet it didn’t feel that way, when memories were too vivid, bumbling beneath the surface of his mind, and in Zarkon’s haunted stare, he could feel the crawl of magic over his skin, the way it flooded into his mouth and down his chest, twisting inside his lungs and burning from the inside out. His scythe felt too heavy, and the place it connected to his skin ached. But Shiro wouldn’t back down.

“Never.” He whispered, like it cost him too much to speak, and took a step closer to Keith, adjusting his stance.

“We won’t let you win.” Allura swore, her head held high. There was no doubt in that moment that she was the Princess of Heaven, the Creator of Stars. She had done the impossible once before, and she would do it again, however many times Heaven and Earth needed her to. Zarkon answered with a cruel smile, like lava crackling down a mountain.

“I will give my father your regards.”

Allura charged. The false Emperor didn’t move, but his ruined Earth god surged forward. The mountain bent in on itself and up, blocking Allura. She swung her sword and shattered the wall, but jagged spikes waited to impale her. Then Hunk was rushing forward, breaking the ground into a thousand pieces.

“Go! I’ve got her!”

Allura never stopped. A wave of black magic enveloped them. It felt like inhaling live embers. In the middle of it all, Lotor laughed a dead man’s laugh, but the world opened around him and Allura dragged him into the Spirit World, forcing him out on the other side of the mountain, and a heavy metal foot crushed him from above. Pidge’s face vicious as she commanded her army.

Zarkon was in reach. Closer and closer, and Allura drew her sword.

Then Nagari was there. Terrible and unrecognizable, fangs and claws dripping with poison. A roar of dragon fire swallowed Allura whole.

Lance rose to stop her, answering the roar of the shadow dragon as Allura crouched to shield herself from the burst of flame. It wasn’t like normal dragon fire, it burned with a white-hot rage that stole her breath and seared down her throat. It felt like it could burn her to ash from the inside, but Lance was there, sinking his fangs into Nagari’s flank. The two dragons writhed against the sky, tearing it apart with bolts of lightning.

Allura staggered to her feet, but Lotor blocked her way, mad rotted smile stretched grotesquely across his face as violet flames licked at his heels. Behind him, the silver soldiers lay scattered across the battlefield in pieces, mixed with the blood and golden armor of the fallen Horde. No one escaped the false Scion’s wrath, not even his own men, and Allura raised her weapon grimly.

“I stopped you once, I’ll do it again.”

“Come on!” Shiro lept forward to Allura’s aid, Keith only a half-step behind. They raced across the blood-soaked battlefield, dodging broken pieces of metal soldiers and the creeping darkness that sank into the earth like an infection. They never made it.

Crows darkened the sky with a raucous scream, descending on the pair with a flurry of feathers and razor sharp talons. Shiro threw up his arm to defend himself as the creatures melted and shifted, reshaping themselves into something vaguely humanoid. The Druids surrounded the Scions as violet energy crackled around them like a cage.

Shiro didn’t even stop, raising his shimmering moonlit scythe and snarling as he brought it crashing down on their leader.  _ Haggar. _ The Druid blocked the attack with a flick of her hand, dark magic sending the prince flying backwards into the dirt.

“You think that you can stand against us?” She said, almost gently with an intimacy that made Shiro’s skin crawl. “We made you, my prince. You were our Champion. You could still be that again.”

Thick black bands rose from the ground, wrapping themselves around Shiro’s ankles and wrists. “We gave you ultimate power. You could have that again. As long as we have you.”

A burst of light cut through their bars, swallowed almost instantly by their shadow, but the Druids turned as one, hissing with the snarl of a mocking bird to face the culprit. Keith shifted his blade with a stern scowl.

“I’ve had enough of all of you!” Keith spat, and the air around him began to glow, the insignia in the center of his armor almost hot enough to burn. A new pulse moved through the Druids, and they swayed, like snakes charmed to only music they could hear, feathers ruffling with every subtle shift. They paid little heed to Shiro cutting through his binds, more fascinated with a new subject.

“More for harvest, but feeble.”  

“A sham of a Scion…”

“Blood is blood, even when it’s weak.”

“Enough!” Keith snarled, striking the ground, and rays of light surged through stone in all directions, racing towards the Druids. They cried out, shapes shifting and forming, and their magic grew thick like smoke, blinding the Scions. Keith backed away until something warm and solid brushed against his back. Shiro was tense, poised to strike but he let his hand down for one moment, just enough to brush his fingers against the back of Keith’s palm. When the smoke cleared, they still weren’t ready.

They stood back to back, surrounded by the twisted, decayed copies of the Champion. Power pulsated with every breath through their enemies and the cage that trapped them, like Shiro and Keith were trapped inside a beating heart.

“You have become weak.” The Druids spoke in Shiro’s voice, his handsome face replayed for them over and over, twisted into a horrific smile. “We will show you what it means to be our Champion.”

They struck as one.

Shiro barely managed to deflect, striking back with his scythe as he faced his dark mirror images. Pain reverberated down his missing arm with each strike, the power holding the moonlight limb together flickering from the aching ghost of what they’d taken from him and replaced with their own mutated technology.

“Our Champion.”

“Come back to us.”

“You are the Galra’s greatest weapon.”

They drove him back step by step, forcing Shiro to give ground. “No!” He snarled, digging in his heels and refusing to retreat. “I’m not weak and I am  _not_ yours. You don’t get to hurt anyone else.” Power filled him, surrounded him, pure silver light untainted by corruption. He gave himself over to it as the glow touched his skin. He was scarred and damaged, they’d broken him before, but Shiro could heal. He was not going to let these creatures define him as a monster.

With a burst of wind, Shiro sent Haggar stumbling back, her feathered cloak catching the gale. Keith stepped forward to continue the attack, moving in time with Keith like they were communicating without words. One heart and one mind, connected and anticipating each other’s every move.

Keith slashed with his golden sword, catching one of the Druids across the stomach with an inhuman cry of an injured bird. A bolt of power struck him in the shoulder and sent him spinning as Shiro’s face leered above him, sending the first flutters of fear through his gut. It looked just like him down to each scar, but the eyes glowed a sickly yellow like the creature Shiro had become. The thing that had almost taken the love of his life and had come so close to killing Keith too. He wavered slightly with the barest hesitation and Haggar smiled.

“Don’t like this face, young Scion?” Shiro’s voice said mockingly, sounding so wrong from the copy’s lips. “You know it’s not real and you still can’t strike him down. Pathetic.”

Keith lashed out, goaded into attacking without the focus or precision he’d honed for so long, and his opponent took advantage of the slip up, pressing the advantage as their weapons locked with such force that Keith’s knees buckled. The monster behind Shiro’s face grinned with too many teeth. “You’ve already lost.” She laughed. “You need him to stand, but he is already ours.”

“Never!” Keith yelled pulling away just enough to use his enemy’s momentum against them as smoothly as Shiro had taught him, techniques from the Moon Kingdom shaped to fit a Sun Soldier’s hand, drawing her into his sword. She blocked his strike like it was nothing.

“You can’t save him. You can’t save anyone, little Scion. You can’t even save yourself.” It almost sounded concerned. Then thick black tendrils rose from Shiro’s false arm, spreading across his sword to wrap around his wrists, trapping him in place. It felt like his hands were bound in stone, fingers frozen around the handle of his blade, and there was no pulling away. “Don’t worry. We will find a use for you yet.”

It hurt, like the Druid was peeling back his skin to find the places beneath his flesh that she could claim, her power running alongside his bones, and Keith howled. When he pulled, it only hurt worse, and the demon’s smile curled with a vicious tilt. In the distance, the sounds of battle raged on. Somewhere Lance roared, a final, desperate cry, and Hunk was screaming. The air shifted and morphed as Allura fought through the worlds, more Spirit than physical as she lead the undead Lotor through a desperate chase. Pidge’s metal soldiers creaked and bent, driven to limits she had never known. No one had reached Zarkon. They were all too busy trying not to die.

Keith couldn’t succumb. He’d fought for too long and too hard in the name of his Goddess, and their people, long before he walked with legends, long before he met Shiro. He wasn’t going to stop now, not when they needed him the most.

He pushed closer.

“Keith!”

Something flickered across his enemy’s face, a flash of confusion. It was gone too soon, replaced by pain, and Keith screamed, flesh tearing as he forced his way through her magic to bury his sword in the Druid’s gut. Heat sped across his nerves, as he carried the Sun in his veins, and Her light flared outwards. Haggar shrieked, her shape twisting and reshaping like tar, until Keith pulled back just far enough to swing his sword. He tried to take off her head, and missed as she retreated, but he carved a jagged angry line across her shoulder and down her chest.

Then Shiro was by his side, his Shiro, honest and true. Tired but triumphant, and still so ready to fight. “Keith are you-”

“Yes,” He hoped, he prayed. “We have to stop them. We need-”

“More.” Shiro finished breathlessly, and Keith’s stomach knotted.

" _More_.”

“I won’t let them touch you,” Shiro promised, and Keith could have laughed, letting his lover step in front of him, face a sea of hissing shadows.

“I know.”

Darkness spilled across the world like oil, consuming everything it touched. It swallowed every living thing and even the surviving Golden Horde were pulled under by the corruption. The sky cracked and creation began to unravel. Zarkon was winning and their friends were dying. The dark Paladins were too strong.

Shiro pulled Keith into his arms as the battle raged and the Druids closed in around them, ignoring the prickle of their power against his skin and the taunting cruelty of his own face reflected back at him. He wasn’t this, they were stronger than this. The journey had proven that they were better together and that was how they were going to win.

He slid his hands to Keith’s hips, taking a deep breath and finding a center of calm as Keith picked up on his meaning. The Scions moved together in prayer as silver and gold light poured from their skin. Shiro fueled the magic, pulling from the unending well inside of his soul and setting it free in Keith’s hands to rage as an inferno. Each stance started as it always did, thousands of years of training and faith behind every move, but alone they were incomplete.

It was a dance, it had always been a dance.

They moved together, striking and defending with their eyes closed and lost in the magic that seemed to live in their very bones. Ancient forms melding into new ones, rewriting knowledge lost for generations.  _Rising Sun and Setting Moon, Crescent at Sunset, Shadows Across the Light._ Wind whipped around them in a growing storm, surrounding the Druids and holding them trapped. Golden fire swept from sweep of Keith’s foot, each leap and strike. It burned around them, swirled higher and fed by the air, purifying the corruption and burning it clean.

The Druids screamed, caught somewhere between human and monstrous bird forms as they tried to shift and escape, but the flames caught their feathers and burned them to ash. Scythe and sword flashed with their own light, cutting down the creatures as the Scions moved in a flurry of death.  _ Equinox, Warriors of the Sky, Light in Darkness. _

The whirling flame pushed outward, spiraling out across the battlefield and sending the creeping Darkness retreating. The Scions barely seemed human, divinity hovering over their armor like a second skin. Two proud warriors, the ghosts of long lost Goddesses burning to escape their mortal bodies, blood molten silver and gold. They culminated with a shout, pressed back to back with their weapons raised in challenge of Heaven and Earth.

_ Total Eclipse. _

Above them, the sky answered as the Sun and Moon merged, a ring of blinding fire surrounding the moon like a golden ring. A wave of wild magic swept through the valley as an unnatural twilight fell over the battlefield. The dark Paladins shrieked as if the twilight burned, shadowy skin peeling back under the eclipse. They were caught and bound by the power, staring at the sky and unable to look away, even as they writhed in pain.

“Go!” A hoarse shout snapped the Scions out of the magic that gripped them, the wavering image of the goddesses disappearing as Shiro and Keith staggered at the sudden loss. Allura pointed her sword at the temple, screaming her throat raw. “Open the Gates!”

Allura watched them go, still stubbornly holding on to one another as they climbed the Temple’s steps. Even now, when fate itself was telling them to give up, her Paladins picked themselves up to continue fighting. She loved them, every single one of them. Though it was likely that they would never really know. She wiped dripping ichor from her blade and turned to the looming Darkness that oozed from the cracks in Zarkon’s mortal form as the Emperor stepped forward to meet her. 

In the distance, she thought she saw the flicker of dark scales, a familiar figure from another lifetime. She told herself Nagari was just as she had last known her, proud and loving and so brave. If that was all she had left, she would cling to the memory until the bitter end, because all she could see was Darkness.

“Princess, you are testing my patience. I will be the one to open the Gates and take its power. Stand aside, or I will break what is left of you.”

The Darkness was where it all began, and Zarkon was little more than its puppet, coming apart at the seams as they neared a plane where spirits reigned. It had taken her people from her, and the love of her life. Now it wanted to claim her family and the rest of her home, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

But she could slow it down.

She could give this world a fighting chance.

Allura stood before a creature older than Time and Space, more ancient than even the Sun and Moon, and she raised her sword.

“You will never reach the Temple while I still breathe.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m here, I’m here.” Pidge was the last one to arrive, rushing in so quickly, she didn’t seem to notice that her feet weren’t touching the ground. Lance and Hunk huddled together, trying to preserve their strength, but the dragon’s scales were blackened and broken around burns that would never truly heal, and the Earth god was slowly pulling angry shards of stone out of his legs. It was a wonder either of them were still fighting.

Stubbornness was a prerequisite to be a Paladin.

“What do we do now?”

They exchanged uncertain looks, the same thought reflected on each of their faces. They’d all assumed Allura would be there to explain what they needed to do, but now, she was the only one standing between them and a monster.

“We have to think of something!” Panic crept into Hunk’s voice as he banged his fists against the stone doors. “Come on, we’re all here. Open up!”

“I don’t think that’s going to work.” Keith said dryly and Lance gave an inhuman snarl.

“Well, you got any bright ideas then?” He snapped, pushing himself off of Hunk to confront Keith.

The ground lurched under their feet and they turned to look out over the valley. Darkness rolled across the battlefield like a living cloud, crackling with bolts of violet lightning. It reached out for the small figure of Allura with thick, oily tendrils, but she cut it back with her sword. A bright flash illuminated the entire valley with blinding light, throwing the whole valley into stark black and white before being swallowed by the Darkness as the ground rumbled again. Allura pulled another star from the sky, and another, crashing them down into the writhing primordial force to hold it back for as long as she could.

Shiro turned back to the Gate and put his hand on the warm stone as the other Paladins watched the goddess fight with awe. It was like the Library, the doors that barred the way to the inner sanctum had been based on these and were modeled after the true Gates of Heaven. It had taken them all to get through the Library’s traps working together. Lance had crossed the impossible river, Hunk had remade the deadly garden, Pidge had released a star. Even corrupted and dying, he and Keith had opened the last door with their blood.

Dragon, Earth god, Celestial, Scions of the Sun and Moon. The five representatives of all of those who had almost torn the world apart during a war that still raged between the human kingdoms. The Gates had been closed when they’d all come together in peace to end the war, the Library had only opened when they’d all worked together.

_ Teamwork. _

“Everyone, put your hands on the stone.” Shiro ordered and the other Paladin’s jumped to follow his lead.  “We’ll all use our powers all at the same time.”

Pidge pressed against his side, looking up at Shiro worriedly. “You really think this is going to work?”

“We can do this together, just like we’ve done everything else. Everybody with me?”

“Yeah!” The voices raised in unison as power flowed into the stone.

It was like a match had been lit, the first flicker of power teasing silence before a rush of heat swelled between them. Ancient gates were smooth to the touch, but they reverberated with a force that had long been dormant, yet still strong enough to make the stone around the gate shiver. It called to something within each of them, something none of them knew existed, a gentle, flicker of magic gifted by a little girl who’d only wanted the best for her children.

As magic poured into the Gates, the Darkness crept across the walls, claiming everything in touched. The doors of the Temple peeled back like sheets of paper when he walked through. The spaces between Spirit and Earth blurred as the world bent to Zarkon’s will.

“Allura.” Pidge’s voice hitched and broke. Shiro felt his knees go weak, horror and grief battling against his iron will. Then there was a hand on his waist, holding on he could give up, and Keith was by his side, his eyes wet with tears and wracked with pain. 

Zarkon smiled, his mouth stained with blood.

But they were still fighting. And the Gates opened.

A rush of energy spilled across the world, straining far beyond even the sight of a dragon. Time dragged to a stop, meaningless in a place where it could be destroyed and reborn anew. Zarkon raised his hands to attack. Even without his armies, he would tear Heaven apart, turn the dead into his soldiers.

Then Shiro saw Her.

With the cosmos in Her eyes, She was draped in robes from a forgotten time, sewn with the light of the stars. She could never belong on this Earth, but the Earth would always sing for Her. In Her hands She held a mirror, history carved along its edge in molten silver and gold, glass etched with countless years of sacrifice so deep that it was scoured smooth. She held it out for Shiro, and his fingers still trembled as he took it.

The Goddess smiled, touching the side of Shiro’s face and his right shoulder and he could swear he saw sorrow in Her eyes at his loss. His knees fought to bend so he could grovel at Her feet, but She wouldn’t let him hide his face from Her glory.

“My Scion.” The Moon was possessive and could be cruel, but Shiro could hear the pride in Her voice. She reflected what She was offered, and Shiro had given his love and his loyalty with his whole heart. Even when he had been corrupted by Darkness, She hadn’t turned away from him.

“I am sorry, my Lady.” Shiro whispered, ashamed that he had fallen so far from what he had meant to be, but the Goddess hid another mysterious smile, teeth sharp against her dark skin. She had never doubted even when Shiro had lost all faith in himself.

“Go.  _ Save Her." _

Shiro looked down at the ancient mirror, a piece of their most sacred legend in his hand. Once the moon had stolen the light from the Sun with this mirror to bring light to the nighttime and give Her children a way to hold back the dark. She had been vain and jealous, but compassionate and caring. A Goddess of contradiction and many faces. Power thrummed through his body until his bones seemed to vibrate with the force and silver crept into his eyes, everything inside of him responding to his birthright. He was the storm and sky and the calm center at its heart. He was a reflection of the cruelty around him and the love others had shown him. He was one half of a whole.

And they were going to save the world.

“Keith!” He shouted as the image of the Goddess faded. The prince held out the mirror which caught the light from Heaven itself, focusing the power down into a single beam of pure energy. Keith turned, eyes wide before realization struck and he yanked the golden sword free. The light hit the blade, which glowed a molten gold edged in silver. The power raced up Keith’s arm and he fought to control it, lifting the sword as if it weighed a thousand pounds. He threw his weight behind it, slicing through the Darkness as an arc of light raced through the valley behind it.

Zarkon screamed, face hideously distorted as his fragile human body disintegrated. The Darkness recoiled, shadows faded away under Heaven’s might until the sky cleared and the corruption burned clean.

A horrific wail echoed through the mountains. A cry of anguish. A promise for revenge.

The Paladins clung to each other, overwhelmed by grief and euphoria, but the first soft rays of sunlight shone through to warm their faces, and hope came with the new day.

“Is it over?” Pidge asked softly, unsure in the sudden silence. “Is it really over?” 

A tired roar echoed through the mountains, and Lance was so surprised he responded in kind. It was a call for assistance, of support, one he hadn’t heard in centuries in his self-imposed exile, but when a dark shadow fell over the remains of the Temple, none of the Paladins recoiled.

The ancient dragon landed carefully. On Nagari’s back was a slight, wisp of a woman, disfigured but healing, the long lines on her face slowly fading. Taja the Earth Goddess. She watched over her dragon, and the precious burden she carried. Fast asleep, wrapped in the scales of her lover, defeated but not broken, rested the Princess of Heaven.

“You did well, Little Brother. She will live.” Nagari whispered, voice rough from disuse, and Lance bowed so low, his long beard pooled around his feet.

They celebrated and cheered, lost in the moment. Keith wanted to be swept up with them. But there was a touch on his shoulder, and he turned. Shiro was waiting for him. He still held the mirror in his hands. The Gates of Heaven stood open, a promise of something ethereal and untouchable. Keith could swear he saw someone in the distance. Two people. In flowing robes and bathed in light.

He fell into Shiro, eyes screwed shut as he held on with all his strength, his knuckles white under the strain. The cheers of their allies felt so far away, joyously relieved, but not loud enough to block out Zarkon’s last curse. Keith didn’t dare look beyond the warmth of his lover’s arms. They’d painted the mountain in blood, and the consequences of their battle would shape the world for generations.

In the bright light of day, the ruin was clear. Broken bodies filled the valley between great scorched black scars in the earth. The surviving Horde milled around in confusion, leaderless and disoriented as they tried to make sense of their loss. Too many people had died here today and even as they celebrated and Shiro’s arm was tight around him, Keith knew that it wasn’t really over.

The Darkness would come back, festering in the corners of the world and corrupting more people until it emerged again to try and wreak havoc on creation. It would take generations, they would be long gone before the next battle was fought. They could celebrate now and finally have their dream of a life together, they were guaranteed a lifetime of peace. This wasn’t their fight anymore and Keith buried his face into Shiro’s chest, knowing what they would have to do.

“We have to go.” Keith whispered against his love’s skin, failing to keep the tears from streaking down his cheeks.

“Keith?” Shiro pulled back to look at him, cupping Keith’s face with his hand and rubbing his thumb gently under the soldier’s eye. “It’s over, we don’t have to do anymore. We can go home again.”

Keith’s body shook with a silent sob at being offered everything, but he couldn’t. They both knew it, even if they didn’t want to accept it. “We can’t let this happen again.”

The prince didn’t answer and rested his forehead against Keith’s, closing his eyes and trying to hold on to just this one perfect moment when the world was safe. Their friends still cheered in the background, Pidge leaping up and down, and Hunk sweeping Lance off his feet in a kiss. Their bodies pressed tight together as if they could share a single heartbeat. Keith tried to remember every detail of the way Shiro felt, how warm he was, the dark glitter of his eyes, the tears caught in his lashes.

“I wanted to give you everything.” Shiro whispered, a terrible confession that hurt him almost as much as it hurt Keith. “A home, a life… I wanted to make you so happy.”

“You do, Shiro. You always do.”

The Prince wove magic through his fingers, shaping a small silver lotus that he bound to Keith’s hair, but his hands trembled, weak with emotion. “Where I come from, the lotus is a symbol of love surviving across a great distance. The roots are deep in the death, but the flower blooms far above on the top of the water. Even so far away, they can still make something wonderful. They’re connected.”

“I’m never letting go, you and me are going to make it to the end. It’s just a thousand years, right?” Keith tried to tease, but the words caught in his throat.

“I love you.” Shiro’s fingers curled against Keith’s armor, nuzzling against the side of his face. “We’re going to rewrite the ending of our own story someday, even if it takes that long. I love you so much. This isn’t going to be goodbye.”

“I love you too.” Keith swallowed hard, then lifted himself on his toes to press his lips to Shiro’s. “I’m still scared.”

“I am too.”

They kissed as the world held its breath, gentle and fierce, a sweet painful memory to last a thousand years of exile. As they kissed, the faint images of two warriors shimmered above them. The Sun and Moon reflected in the love of their Scions, sharing the same kiss. Hand in hand, the two Scions turned to the Gate and accepted the price their blood had to pay.

When the others looked around, Keith and Shiro were gone.


	25. Epilogue

“Tell us a story!”

The children clamored around the Storyteller even as a harried librarian tried to hush them. Story time evenings at the local library was always a little too loud when he showed up, but he was so popular with the kids. Especially when he did the voices and made up his own adventures. The Storyteller laughed and waved his hand, dismissing her concern. “It’s okay. I haven’t been around as much as I’d like, I think we have time for a quick one.”

The children cheered, and pretended to be chastised as they took their bean bags, settling around him in the story nook. One of the more daring kids moved her seat right beside him so she could place a Hello Kitty Band-Aid on his wrist. It was bright pink and had a pretty red bow in the middle, and she smiled proudly as she showed off the one on her metal knee. The Storyteller ruffled her hair, showing off the smooth metal of his prosthetic before turning back to the group.

“What do you want to hear about today?”

That was a mistake. All of them tried to answer at once.

“The mermaids! The jokey ones in the South and the pirate-y ones in the North-”

“No, the Star Makers! There was a meteor shower last week does that mean that Pidge is making new ones or did her brother-”

“But you never told us what happened after Lady Nagari saved the Princess Allura.” Someone from the front piped up, and got elbowed for his trouble.

“She kissed her, duh. It’s what happens when you get the girl.”

A fight broke out over who would be doing the kissing, since Princess Allura was the one who'd been rescued, but Princess Allura was obviously the best hero too. The Storyteller broke it up before the librarian came back to hush them.

“What happened after the Gates of Heaven were open?” The little girl beside him said quietly and the Storyteller smiled, lifting her up into his lap as the other children crowded closer with shouts of agreement. He waited until the children had settled and began, painting the world for them with just his words.

“Six people stood against the Darkness and the whole Sun Kingdom army, and they survived. The Gates of Heaven were opened and the Darkness banished, but with the two Scions accepting their exile and completing the ritual, they bound the Darkness far from the world so it couldn’t come back.” He wagged his fingers at the children who cheered, earning a strict  _shhhh_  from the librarian. “Anybody know what happened because the Gates were open?”

“The Celestial gods got to come back!” One little girl said eagerly and the Storyteller nodded.

“The Gods and spirits were able to travel back to earth and we were connected to Heaven again. Allura and Nagari stayed at the Temple together for a long time because they’d missed each other so much, but they both went searching all over the world for her lost friends, like Coran, who had been born into mortal bodies. It took a long time, but they found them all! Pidge stayed at the Temple too, learning how to be a goddess again. She found her brother after the great battle and helped him free all the slaves. She made sure to visit her home at the monastery every year until her family passed.”

“And she helped teach people to use machines!” Another child pipped up, her hair twisted in dark braids and a wide gap-toothed smile across her face where she was missing both front teeth. “I’m gonna be an engineer just like my Dad and built flying cars.”

“Flying cars!” The Storyteller’s eyes widened in playful surprise. “That sounds amazing, that’s a good dream to have. I’m sure Pidge would be very proud, they say she always watches over the inventors.”

“But what about Lance and Hunk? They got to go home again, right?”

“They did, they spent a lot of time back in the Islands. Taja went with them and whenever they were restless, they traveled the world looking for adventure though most of the time they just found trouble. I think it suited them just fine.” The Storyteller laughed. “They made new Immortals together-”

“The mermaids!” A boy in a Power Ranger t-shirt practically bounced with excitement and was promptly shushed. He ducked down embarrassed, but the Storyteller offered him an encouraging smile.

“You’re absolutely right. When a dragon loves a god, they make mermaids, half-fish and half-god. Allura and Nagari’s children live in the northern oceans and are fierce warriors, they respect the brave, fearless sailors the most. Hunk and Lance’s children live in the southern oceans around the islands. They’re mischievous and like to pull pranks on sailors, but you can always win them over with a good pun.”

“That’s why I’ll be their favorite,” Power Rangers t-shirt said excitedly.

“That’s why you’ll get eaten.” His friend answered, too solemnly. The Storyteller hid a smile behind his hand. He would have moved on, but in the front row, one of the children was unhappy and withdrawn, tucking his knees against his chin as he tried to hide his frown. When the Storyteller reached out, he looked away stubbornly.

“It’s not fair.” He said into his jeans. “Everyone else got a happy ending, but after everything they did, the scions just got nothing.”

“It’s why you have to have to be careful about what you do. Sometimes you end up hurting a lot of people with the decisions you make… But I wouldn’t say they got nothing,” the Storyteller countered, but gently. “They found each other.”

“They didn’t even get to be with each other. Isn’t that the point? If you like someone, you wanna be with them.”

“Yeah. It is.” The Storyteller said with an easy smile, but his peace had come from a hard-won battle, one he was glad his audience was too young to know. “And it was terribly difficult for them, but it wasn’t all bad. Sometimes the Sun catches up with the Moon, and they line up, and what we see’s an eclipse. The Scions lived for those moments, the times they could be together, even if it was just for a minute or two. Sometimes Shiro would spend months collecting all the jokes he knew Keith would hate, and then Keith would have to wait for the next eclipse to tell him off.”

The children giggled, and the Storyteller puffed out his chest in pride. Then a little girl tugged on his hand, before shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. All she did was loosen her ponytail.

“Was Keith dreamy?”

The Storyteller laughed, refusing to look at any one of them. “Keith was very dreamy. They never had more than those few, rare moments together, but Keith had an idea. He wanted to build a home together, he never gave up hope that they’d find a way. During those rare times they could walk the earth, he found a beautiful, peaceful place in the mountains that could be their home. Once or twice a year when the Sun was at its highest, he would come down to earth and work on it. When the Moon was full and closest to earth, Shiro would do the same. They left little notes for each other whenever they could, building a future one day at a time over centuries. They had a thousand years to spend apart, but they never let go of each other. Not even once.”

“That’s not the same. A minute or two together, or writing each other notes isn’t enough.” The quiet child said. “They didn’t get to be together like everyone else and it’s not _fair_.”

“No, it’s not fair. But someday, their exile will be over and they can finally have their new life together in a world that they saved. A thousand years in the sky has changed them, they’re not mortals anymore. They could have forever with each other, isn’t that worth a little sacrifice?”

“Maybe.” The boy frowned. “It still doesn’t seem right. Are they still chasing each other in the sky?”

“That’s what the legends say.” The Storyteller glanced up at the librarian and gave the children one last wide smile. “Looks like our time is up tonight, your parents are here to pick you up.”

A chorus of wails went up, but the librarian helped chase the children back to their waiting parents who greeted the familiar sight of the Storyteller with welcome voices. The little girl with the prosthetic leg was the last to leave as the Storyteller helped her stand. She gave his hand a little kiss to make it better before running off to her father.

The Storyteller stayed long enough to help the librarian close up for the night, promising to be back the next month for another story night. He stepped out into the streets and breathed in the early autumn air. It was still too early for the leaves to be changing, but he could feel the shift in the air away from summer. The Moon Kingdom was always beautiful during the fall. He strolled down the street as cars whizzed by, stopping at a coffee shop briefly and enjoying the comforting hazel scent as he wrapped his hands around the warm paper cup.

The lights of the city were too bright to see the stars, the buildings reached high up into the sky and glittered with their own lights. The Moon was still visible no matter how brightly the city shone, full and silvery-white overhead. He strolled across a delicately arched stone bridge where lovers and friends gathered, sharing kisses and snapping pictures.

He kept walking even as the traffic started to disappear and the crowds thinned, the bright flickering billboards casting bright reflections on the pavement as everyone started to go to bed. He passed through the heart of the city and the quiet nestled neighborhoods that surrounded it where there was night enough to see the sky again. Hours later, the neighborhoods grew father and father apart, giving way to rolling green hills and distant mountains dotted with tiny towns and temples. Beyond them lay the sea, shrouded in mist. Everything was quiet and still as the dark hours of night deepened into the early morning and the Storyteller lay back on the grass and relaxed, lulled by the quiet pipping of frogs and the distant chirruping of an enthusiastic cricket playing its song.

The Storyteller lay there, enjoying the slight chill of the breeze as the sky softened to a dull purple and the stars began to fade one by one. Even the Moon began her slow decent towards the horizon as the world made itself ready for a new day. The man pushed himself to his feet, wiping the morning dew from his clothes as he faced the east and waited. It felt like he’d waited forever, but the sky brightened and the minutes ticked slowly down.

The first beam of light broke the horizon with triumphant joy, spilling like gold across the world. A figure followed its path, stepping delicately on earth, hesitant at first before he took off running, crossing the distance between them as the sun rose higher in the sky and bathed everything in the warm morning light.

Shiro held out his arms as Keith tackled him, sending them both tumbling to the ground, their laughter lost in breathless, desperate kisses.

“I missed you.” Keith whispered, settling himself into Shiro’s arms where he belonged. “So much.”

“I missed you too.” Shiro curled himself around Keith and held on tight. “Let’s go home.”

It was time for their story to finally begin.

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes on insults and slang:  
>  **The Golden Horde/The Horde** \- The traditional people of the Sun Kingdom before the Galra came  
>  **Glint** \- A slur for the Sun Kingdom people based on the stereotype they use a lot of gold in their decorations and armor  
>  **Knot-Head** \- A slur for the Galra based on their fashion of wearing braids in their hair  
>  **Gwailo** \- A casual reference to the Moon Kingdom people based on the stereotype they're pale and ghostly
> 
>  
> 
> For more about the setting click here: 
> 
> [The Moon Kingdom](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/post/150609624187/the-moon-kingdom-is-scattered-across-four-large)  
> [The Sun Kingdom](http://itdans.tumblr.com/post/150532587993)  
> [The Islands](http://itdans.tumblr.com/post/151171706683/thousands-of-islands-dot-the-south-dragon-sea-in-a)  
> [The Jade Monastery](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/post/151978477388/the-sun-kingdom-stretches-for-thousands-of-miles)  
> [The Lady's Scar](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/post/152603351483/the-ladys-scar-stretches-for-hundreds-of)  
>  [The Temple of Heaven](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com/post/153668308718/high-on-an-arid-plateau-in-the-very-western-tip-of)
> 
> You can find Dans on tumblr [here](http://itdans.tumblr.com/)  
> Rune's tumblr is [ here](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com) and twitter is [Here](https://twitter.com/Runicscribbles)
> 
> Come say hello. :)


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